


The Horrifying Misadventures of One Elizabeth Winchester (In Which Elizabeth is Transported Back in Time by Her Idiot Cousin and Has to Deal With Her Family Before They Became Functional Members of Society)

by Mizyuuki256



Series: The Horrifying Misadventures of Elizabeth Winchester [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Sweetheart who kills people who bother him, Abusive John Winchester, And a worse Grandpa, Angels can have babies, Blood is silver not gold, But an awesome grandpa, But they come later, Castiel is best Papa, Chuck is a shitty dad, Dean is best Dad, Do not put this man in charge of children, Drunk John Winchester, Especially Leonides, Family Feels, Half-angel, I HAVE AWESOME COMMENTERS, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kid Fic, Lucifer is a sweetheart, Multi, Read the comments, Teen Wolf references, These people need group therapy, You don't have to watch the show to read, and Ziahhana, i did the thing, john winchester is a shitty dad, seriously, soul bonds, that was sarcasm, time-travel, you will respect Grandfather Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:43:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizyuuki256/pseuds/Mizyuuki256
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth Whinchester HATES time travel. It's the bane of her universe, it drives her insane. But she missed that huge sale on knives last week, so she has to go back to when she could actually AFFORD that one really good knife for her dad's birthday.</p><p>Only problem is, her cousin John has the crappiest aim. So, instead of two weeks ago, he sends her to 2005, before her dads ever met, before her fiance made it out of hell, before Grandpa Chuck made it out of his depression, before she was born.</p><p>Worst of all, before any single member of her family became functional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> Started this in my head a while ago. Just something I was milling around. It's not going to be updated regularly, so just check it whenever you like. I'm telling this through two parts. The first is excepts from Elizabeth's journals, like what's below. When I actually get into the episodes, then below that'll be the episode with Elizabeth's point of view and interference.

_You think your family's bad? Mine takes weird to a disturbing degree._

_You think your mom giving you books on sewing and how to raise a family is bad gift-giving? Two of my mother figures gave me an ungodly airsoft gun collection (complete with grenades, machine guns, SMGs, and  some shot guns) and told me to use some of my uncles for practice. The other two video tapped it and put it on YouTube._

_You think your dad telling your boyfriend about his 'oh-so-expansive' gun collection is overprotective? My dad poured HOLY OIL on my fiance when he found out we were dating. And my other dad lit him on FIRE!_

_You think your uncle is self centered with his presents? One gave me a sword and told me that, if I didn't learn how to block in a week, he was going to take my arm off. He wasn't kidding. Another gave me a bunch of really creepy dolls when I was a kid. Turns out, there were all pedophiles he'd kidnapped and made into dolls to make a point. Him giving them to me to play Barbie was just a bonus. My only blood-related uncle gave me a stack of books for Christmas. Turns out it was just research he didn't want to do. And the uncle everyone hates the most? He taught me how to make my kindergarden teacher cry on command so she would finally break down and sell her soul for that lottery ticket she'd been waiting on._

_You think your grandpa can't control his kids? Mine blows them up at the dinner table. Frequently._

_You think your fiance has a temper? Mine has set our house on fire SIX times during our fights. Sure, it never stays burned down, everything's fine inside, and I'm usually choking him out, BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT!_

_And you think my family's weird just on the description above? So did I._

_Turns out, they used to be so much worse._


	2. Chapter 1, In Which Elizabeth Struggles to Stay Positive Despite the Fact that Her Fiance and Father Are Going to Kill Her When She Gets Back Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter! Lots of thanks to everyone who commented and gave Kudos! I love you all very much. This isn't a long chapter, but I'm going to be doing whole episodes after this, I swear.

_I'm going to live for a very long time. Very long. My entire family is kind of immortal, and, believe me, they earned it. So, as a joke, everytime anyone in my family overshoots when it comes to time travel, we always say, "At least you'd have lived until you came right back here!"_

_It's not that fucking funny anymore._

_Seriously, how did this happen? I know John is an idiot, I assume he got Grandpa John's smarts, since that's the only one stupid enough to pull this, but this is ridiculous! 2005? How could he have overshot that much?! He is so lucky I had Dad's journal and this laptop in my bag, or I swear to Gandpa Chuck, I would kill him when I get back._

~~_If I get back._ ~~

_No, I've got to stay positive about this, otherwise I really will kill him when I get back to my time. Hell, I might do it even if this goes perfectly. 2005? Really? This is so freaking bizzare, even for my family, that I'm not even sure what to do. I've got very little money, almost all of which I just spent on a bus ticket with NO other passangers, no food, which I still need along with water, and no home, since it hasn't even been BUILT yet. Basically, I've got nothing but this laptop, Dad's journal, and some clothes I always keep in my pack for situations . . . no like this, but close enough._

_So i'm going to have to find Dad. God, he's probably going to be pissed when I get home. He HATES time travel, probably more than I do, and the only thing that he hates me doing more than Luce (that joke will NEVER get old) is time traveling. He's going to be so pissed when I get back home. Luce'll probably more pissed, though. He always gets so panicked and worried when I got time traveling. No matter how far I'm going back, he always freaks out the whole time I'm gone, and he's almost . . . depressed for a couple of days when I get back. Could he know something about this that I don't? Could he remember my trip back here?_

_I don't think so. I can feel him through our bond, but the whole thing is weird. It's like he's here, but he's not, like there's something seperating us. I don't know what it is - no one in my family really talks about the early 2000s and 2010s - so I've got no idea where he is right now. It's unnerving._

_Speaking of not knowing where people are, there are no angels around. Now that's just odd. Usually, I'm covered in grace from my aunts and uncles, but here, now, it's like there's none on earth. I can sesnse SOME kind of Grace, but it's not an angel's. It's free, so the angel it belonged to probably fell. What's going on? Where is everyone? I tried calling to Uncle Gabe, but he won't answer. I know he can hear me, he hears all of our prayers, but I think he's ignoring me. Papa's doing it too. I know that they have no idea who I am and have no way to know who I am to them, but . . . it kind of hurts._

_The bus is pulling into the stop soon. According to Dad's journal, he and Uncle Sam will be dealing with some kind of hook ghost right now. I'll be coming in just at the good part. Should I get invovled? Should I let them figure it out on their own?_

_See? This is why I HATE time travel!_

* * *

_  
_Elizabeth didn't have a hard time finding the church. Her dad was always meticulous in his notes, getting everything down to it's smallest detail, so she was hardly surprised when she followed the perfect directions to the church where, she could tell, the ghost was already giving both her dad and her uncle a hell of a lot more trouble than the little shit was worth.

Uncle Sam was shoving some girl behind him, trying to protect her from whatever this thing was, and Elizabeth had no idea where her dad was. Everything was going pretty okay, though. This Sam certainly didn't have the same finesse or skill that HER Uncle Sam did, but nothing TOO bad had gone down. Maybe she wouldn't have to get involved at all. After all, she did come from the greatest line of hunters in history.

She as she was considering turning away and going to look for her dad, the ghost took a swing at Uncle Sam and, to her shock, hit his mark, scraping his claw down Sam's flesh. The girl was dragged into another room during the distraction, and Elizabeth couldn't stop herself from making her presence know.

"Now, I know," she said, her focus on the ghost, "that you did NOT just hurt my uncle." She glowered at him, her wings itching to pop out in her typical show of power. "Because, last time I checked, ghosts don't tend to be suicidal." She pulled out a shot gun she may or may not have stolen from a gun shop on her way there. "Hurting Winchesters has never gone well for anyone." With that, she took a shot dispelling him for only a moment.

Sam, smart man that he was, paid Elizabeth little mind, focusing on Lori. "Come on," he said, trying to pull her up with his good arm. "You okay?"

Before she could answer, the ghost appeared once more, backhanding him into the bookshelf near the wall, breaking the glasswear on top as it toppeled on top of him. The girl began to crawl away, visibly terrified at the sight before her. Elizabeth raised her shotgun again, whether to protect the girl or in retaliation to the ghost obviously proving his suicidal tendencies, she wasn't sure, when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Sam, drop!" Instantly, even though the order hadn't been issued to her, Elizabeth fell to the ground without a second of hesitation, hearing the gunshot and watching the ghost disappate before her eyes.

There, panting in the doorway, stood her father, a great deal younger, but looking very much the same. He obviously still had the same penchants for layers that their entire family had, the only exception being Uncle Crowley, but Elizabeth had long since decided that he was the odd duck. His hair was the same, although there was no grey to be seen, and his face was free of the wrinkles and worry lines that adorned it in her memory. This was obviously still her father, just different, younger.

"I thought we got all the silver," Sam called, covering Lori in and attempt to protect her from the next, inevitable attack.

"So did I!" Dean yelled, obviouslt irritated with the turn of events..

"So why is he still here?"

"Well maybe we missed something," Dean admitted, looking around.

Elizabeth couldn't help but speak up, the words coming from her lips without permission. "It's here," she said, looking right at Lori. "You just need to look closer."

Sam looked from her to Lori, confused, "What are you-" he cut himself off as he caught sight of Lori's chain. "Lori," he asked, still panting. "Where did you get that chain?"

Lori looked down at her chain. "My-My father gave it to me."

Deans eyes widened a fraction. "Where'd your dad get it?" he asked.

"He said it was a church heirloom," she answered, becoming more and more panicked as the conversation went on. "He gave it to me."

"Is it silver!" Sam yelled.

"Yes?!"

Wordlessly, Sam yanked the chain off of her neck, just as Elizabeth heard rather than saw the growing scratch across the wall nehind her father. "Get away from there," she called, careful not to call him 'Dad' before she had the chance to explain everything. "NOW!" The chilling sound of breaking wood stopped and started, growing closer with each second. Without explination, not that Elizabeth needed one, Uncle Sam and her father switched their respective objects, Dean taking the chain and Sam taking the gun.

Without a second of prompting, Elizabeth took a shot at where the crack ended, hopefully hitting the ghost in the process. "I got this," she said, not taking her eyes off of the walls to see her father running down the hall, hopefully to a fire burning somewhere else in the church.

She could sense him before he appeared, for all the good that it did her, since he was right next to Uncle Sam and Lori. "Not today," she cried, firing off another shot, only to realize that her gun, useless piece of shit that it was, had jammed at the most inoppertune time. While she fiddled with the trigger, not wanting to use any kind of magic in front of Uncle Sam before she could explain it, she saw him raise his hook right in front of them, only to see it melt and him to catch fire.

It was over. They'd won.

* * *

Elizabeth could see her father walking away from the sheriff, who, obviously, wasn't very happy with the way things had gone down. she heard him give some BS cover story that she was their sister, who they were supposed to met in town, so the three of them would be leaving that day. Uncle Sam and Lori were talking near the ambulance, but she didn't have the heart to eavesdrop.

"So," her father said, sliding into the front seat with an ease that was more familiar to her than anything she'd seen yet. "You gonna tell me exactly what you're doing here? And how you knew that Lori's necklace was the hook?"

Elizabeth nodded. She couldn't possibly be able to come up with a lie that perfect. She'd have to fess up. "You told me. It was one of your favorite stories to tell me when I was growing up, and," she pulled out the journal, turning it to the nessesary page and handing it to him, "You're really careful with your details."

Dean looked at the journal, seemingly an older version of his own hidden in the trunk. He hadn't updated it in days, but, without a doubt, this was it. Older, crustier, but still it.

"I swear to god," he said, handing it back to her, if you tell me you're Sam's kid from the future-"

"I'm not, she said, cutting hime off. "I'm yours.

 


	3. Chapter 2. in Which Elizabeth, Despite Her GREAT Love For Her Family, Considers How Much Trouble She Would Be In With Uncle Chuck If She Killed A Few

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean reacts to Elizabeth's bombshell. Elizabeth reacts to her Dad not acting Dad-like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so incredibly sorry for the wait. I was going to post the first weekend of Christmas break, but then I went on a cruise in the middle of the ocean, and then I came home and I was sick with the flu for TWO WEEKS STRAIGHT, and, finally, midterms came. Pity me, for my life sucked for a while there. On the WORSE side, I've had this, and the next chapter, already written, but, since I'm not allowed to use my computer at school and I haven't had a lot of time due to my dance studio beginning rehearsals for recital and I finished my own original story, I haven't had time to update. The second one will be edited and posted before the end of the day, I promise.

                 _I love my family. Really, I love them to death._

_OK, bad choice of words there considering past issues._

_But, in all honesty, it’s true. Dad, Papa, my aunts, uncles, Grandpa Chuck, Grandad Bobby. Really, the only people we don’t like are Grandpa John, Great Grandpa Sam, Uncle Zach, and Aunt Anna, give or take a few. That’s it. And, after reading more of Dad’s journal—what little I can decipher from the later years—I get the feeling that that’s a miracle. I can’t tell what they did, but Uncle Uri, Uncle Gabe, and Uncle Mike’s names are always followed by a very long string of explicatives. I can’t tell what they did, but one thing is obvious, Dad hates them._

_That idea never really bothered me before. As much as Dad **used** to hate them, he liked—tolerated in Uncle Mike and Uncle Uri’s cases—them in my time. Most of the time. Now that I’m here though . . . what am I supposed to do? They’re all my family and, joking aside, I don’t think I’ll be able to just stand back and watch them fight._

_This entire mess is way too complicated._

_On the up side, dad’s handling this whole thing well. The yelling and denial was held off until we got to the motel room they were staying at. Uncle Sam won’t shut up about how lucky Dad is to **have** a child. Now, I’ve said it over and over again, I **love** my uncle, but there is a long standing and iron-clad rule in our family: No one uses the kids in a fight._

_I know Uncle Sam must be hurting—even after all this time with Uncle Gabe, he still loves Aunt Jess—and he and Dad obviously aren’t as close as they are in my time (Seriously? Do **none** of my family actually get along?), but using me as a way to force Dad into the white picket fence life he **knows** no one in this family can have? Not cool._

* * *

To say that Dean Winchester was not handling his “daughter” appearing from the future well would be a laughable understatement. They’d done just about every test they and Bobby (who was more skeptical that Sam but a hell of a lot more accepting than Dean) could think of.

“I don’t know what to tell you boys,” he said eventually, and, even from there, Elizabeth could sense him scratching his head. “I hate to be the first one to throw in the towel, but—until that DNA test comes back . . .”

Dean paled a little at his words. This was his daughter? He couldn’t deny that she looked like him. She had his hair, his nose, his freckles, and, when Sam made his big speech about how Dean should appreciate what he had, he realized that her jaw clenched the same way his did.

But there were differences too. Her eyes, while the same green of his own, seemed . . . brighter to him, her freckles and skin overall were just a few shades darker and her hair—which was extraordinarily long—was a dark black except for some red bangs. Instinctively, he _knew_ this was legit. This _was_ his daughter. Logically, though . . .

“I _can’t_ be a dad, Sammy,” Dean whispered harshly, completely unaware of his daughter’s supernatural hearing. “I barely take care of myself. I can’t raise a kid, not in this life!”

“I don’t know Dean,” Sam said. “You did pretty well with me.”

“Yeah, but she’s a _girl,_ she’s—I—they—”he sighed heavily. “I can’t take care of her.”

At that point, it seemed, Elizabeth had enough, taking off her own leather jacket—which dean noticed looked a lot like a trench-coat version of his own—and crossing her arms, bringing attention to the two tattoos on each arm. One was obviously a devil’s trap—which automatically ruled out demon—but he didn’t recognize the other one.

“That’s it,” Elizabeth said, frowning at her father as she leaned forward and her brow lowered.“I am a twenty-three year old, engaged woman. You haven’t had to take care of me in _years_. No one has. I. Am. A. Winchester.”

And, in that second, Dean could see it. There was something in her eyes, the fire there, or the set of her jaw, and it clenched in his mind.

This was his daughter.

She had fight in her.

She _was_ a Winchester.

And he was okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you guys think? Just FYI, Elizabeth DOES have a sister, Mary. I'm just saying this because it's not gonna get mentioned for a while, mabe even a couple of seasons. Elizabeth takes more after her Dad, both physically and mentally. She's very sarcastic, over protective of her family, and she, like her Dad, tends to blame herself for everything. Mary, on the other hand, is more like their Papa (who you should be able to guess at this point) both ways as well. Out of the two, she's more calculating and careful, and she has an almost unnerving loyalty to family and a respect for authority. That's probably why Elizabeth's a Papa's girl, but Mary's a Daddy's girl-- they really are their father's children. The next chapter is gonna focus on Elizabeth trying to find everyone from her time. Like I said, she's just like her Dad. Anyone else feel sorry for the guy who's gonna have to tell her where her fiance is?


	4. In Which Elizabeth Goes Out In Search of Luce and Is Not At All Happy With The State of Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK. I know I am VERY late and for that I'm sorry. I LOT of stuff happened that had to be dealt with and took up time. I'm so sorry.

_I can’t find Luce._

_Now, if this were my time, I wouldn’t be worried. It’s **Luce**_ , _Lucifer, Satan, Morning Star, Creator of Demons, Destroyer of My House During Fights, Reason Why Dad Got Me My Banishing Tattoos. It’s not like he can’t take care of himself. He’s an archangel. Nothing can hurt him. I’m sure I’m probably over reacting. Right?_

_I can’t find Papa or any of the other angels either. I found Aunt Anna, but . . . let’s just say she’s only **slightly** less crazy **now** than she is in my time. That, and she’s got no juice. I found it in a tree in the middle of nowhere. What was it doing **there**? Did she fall? I doubt it. Aunt Annael is bat shit crazy when it comes to rules. It’s why she was **kind of** kicked out of the family._

_But I’ve gotten totally off topic. Where could Papa and the others be? In heaven? If so, why aren’t **any** of them on earth, like Uncle Gabe and Grandpa Chuck, who I **know** are here, even if they’re both ignoring me!_

_And what’s that about? Grandpa Chuck **never** ignores me. I’m his favorite. It comes with being the only Grandchild who always listens to his stories. I **know** he hears my prayers; he **always** hears by prayers, and he’s on earth too, cause I can feel him somewhere, but he’s being really careful. I know he’s in America, but that’s only because I know very specific things to look for! What’s he hiding from? It can’t be Grandfather Death, I’ve got **no** idea where he is._

_The **only** saving grace here is that Dad in this time is freaking awesome! He seems happier than the Dad I grew up with. Just a little. I don’t know, I think it’s in his eyes. After his initial freak out, he handled the whole “Your grown daughter came from **way** in the future” thing pretty well._

_That’s probably because I’ve yet to mention the whole “You married an angel in the vessel of a man” thing._

_Or the “Your grown daughter is half angel” thing._

_I’m **especially** not mentioning the “And she’s getting married to Satan” thing. That didn’t go over well in **my** time. It might kill him in this one._

_And everything comes back to Luce. I don’t know why I’m so worried. I just am. We’ve never been separated this long since we made our soul bond. It’s so wrong, not feeling him tugging on it ever once and a while. I used to think he did it just to mess with me. Now I understand._

_He was making sure it was still there._

_I’ve got to find him. Even if I can’t get to him or see him, I just—I have to know where he is. No demons have been of any held. Apparently, the general consensus is that he’s either dead or never existed. The only one I **know** would know the truth is Uncle Crowely, and I think he might still be in hell. That, or he has really lost his touch in hide-and-seek after I was born._

_I guess I can ask Uncle Josh. He’s always been really nice. He’ll probably tell me the whole story. The only problem is getting into heaven without anyone noticing. The last thing I want is to run into Uncle Zach. Urgh._

 

* * *

 

Elizabeth was ready to pull her hair out. Why was it that the reapers were so damn good at their job? Grandfather Death wasn’t even up and kicking yet, and they were still getting souls to heaven faster than she could reach them. This whole “follow a soul to heaven and find uncle Josh” plan was seeming more and more difficult by the hour.

And she didn’t have that many hours to spare. Her dad and uncle had gotten and “important job” in the middle of the night and left a small note on her door. Not that she was complaining. Explaining her quest to them without Dad flipping out would have been near impossible.

Just as she was about to give up and go back to Grandpa Bobby’s house, like she was supposed to in the first place, she felt a disturbingly large and familiar burst of energy from Kansas.

Elizabeth rushed to where she was _sure_ her dad’s childhood home was, just in time to see a malevolent force almost entrap Mammy Mary. What is up with ghosts in this time? Did they _not_ understand the concept of leaving her family the hell alone?

Without having to worry about her Dad seeing, it was ridiculously easy to dispel the force. “Hi Mammy Mary,” Elizabeth said, smiling as she gave her favorite grandmother a hug. Grandpa John wasn’t really around all the time because of “reasons”, but Mammy Mary was always there with a hug and some apple pie. Elizabeth wasn’t sure which she loved more, as Mammy Mary’s hugs smelled like cinnamon, and sunshine, and sparkles, and everything else wonderful in this world.

“This young and I’m already a mammy,” Mary said, smiling sadly as Elizabeth finally came into her view. “Oh, I wish I was alive to see you born—” Mary cut herself off as she finally saw Elizabeth clearly. “Wait, you’re—”

“From the future,” Elizabeth explained, more than happy to talk to _someone_ other than her dad or Uncle Sam. “It’s a long story. One I’ll tell you _after_ we get you into heaven.”

 

After dropping Mary off at a lovely heaven that consisted of a field of flowers, Elizabeth didn’t have to wander around too long before Uncle Josh came for a visit.

“You should be more careful,” He said, smiling at her despite his words. “It took some time, but they _did_ eventually sense your presence. The higher ups are practically blowing apart trying to find you.” He smiled. “Pun not intended.”

“I’ve just got one question,” Elizabeth answered, wanting to get straight to the point. “And Grandpa _knows_ what it is. I’d ask him personally, but he’s been ignoring me. Which, FYI, is _very_ rude.” She heaved a heavy sigh before continuing. “I just wanna know what’s going on,” she pleaded sadly. “Can’t he give me that?”

Joshua shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid not child. Knowing you, you’d not be able to just sit back and let it happen. All of it. It _needs_ to happen you see. No matter how much it hurts.” He put a comforting hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “And it’s _going_ to hurt. So much more that you’re expecting.”

Elizabeth nodded. Those weren’t Uncle Josh’s words; they were Grandpa Chuck’s.

“Just tell me where he is,” Elizabeth begged both Josh and Chuck, knowing they would understand what she meant. “I’ll deal with whatever special kind of hell’s coming my way, just . . . I have to know where he is.”

Joshua frowned, clearly not liking whatever he was hearing. “Are you sure you want to know? Would that really make everything better? Perhaps you should let this—”

“ _Someone_ is going to tell me where my fiancé is,” Elizabeth growled, her wings flaring back in warning to both Joshua and Chuck. “So, _perhaps_ you should be the one to actually tell me _anything._ ”

Joshua’s frown deepened as his shoulders slumped, obviously not liking that he had to be the sole messenger of this _particular_ bit of bad news. Eventually, though, Elizabeth’s glare forced him to surrender the information in a small voice, hopping to personally avoid her anger.

“The Cage.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean was a decorated veteran when it came to repressing his emotions. So seeing his mother again, seeing her possibly consumed by such evil just after getting her back, if only for a moment, and all the feelings that came with it were shoved down and thoroughly ignored.

He had a little (though not at all little if he was being honest with himself, which he never was) girl waiting at home for him. He had is car. He had Sammy and Bobby. John was out there somewhere and possibly needed them. That was all he should focus on. That, and the little comment Missouri made before they left.

“Normally, I’d say you’re mama’s positive energy negated that ghost’s negative energy. But, something else came into here. Something unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It was . . . It seemed to be holy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? I know they're all really short right now. The episodes in the first season focus on the brothers a lot and, despite how much they WANT to trust Elizabeth, they still don't trust her all that much.
> 
> I'm kind of excited to right all the scenes with Lucifer and Elizabeth. They're relationship (or what I've thought of so far) is really complex, what with them both being insane.


	5. In Which Elizabeth Must Confront The Fact That The People She Is With Are NOT Her Family, But Realizes They're Pretty Darn Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so a lot of stuff happened while I was gone. 
> 
> I finished my original story, feel free to check that out, and a lot of emotional drama happened, which I explain in the notes of the story.
> 
> Now, I try REALLY hard not to get too emotionally messed up when writing things because it shows in my writing. I recently lost a really good friend because her sister got a hold of some things I was writing and the two would make some really hurtful jokes about it. This is on top of my other friend and I getting basically bullied by our teacher in front of a bunch of other kids and my final Dance Recital, which I've been working towards for 15 years. So I'm really sorry for the temporary hiatus. Also, to any of you who saw an update a while ago, I'm sorry for that too. I wasn't finished with that. But this is finished. 
> 
> This is the first of five acts for the Episode Asylum. Now that we're in WHOLE EPISODE mode as opposed to just little vignettes, it'll take a while to get these out. I'm being very careful about staying into the story while including the episodes, so it'll take a while. Many thanks to Supernatural Wiki.com, which has transcripts of every episode of Supernatural. Without them, this would have taken a lot longer.
> 
> Anything you see in quotes with a * by it is a direct quote from the Supernatural episode Asylum, written by Richard Hatem and Directed by Guy Bee. You read those names? Neither of those names are mine. Ergo, the text afterwards is not. Also, other than Elizabeth and any of the story specific to her, I own non of this. Nothing. Do you honestly think It would take ten seasons for me to get Cas and Dean together if that were true? Do you?

_What the hell am I doing with my life? I should be trying to find a way home, but I can’t. Half angels can’t travel through time on command, and I doubt any of the angels from **this** time are gonna help. I swear, they’re all a bunch of dicks right now._

_When I get my hands on John I am going to rip him so many new ones._

_The worst part isn’t even that I’m not around my family (which, don’t get me wrong, is eating me alive) but the ones I **can** talk to are so . . . different. Usually, this much down time, Dad won’t stop talking to me. It’s like he wants to know everything I’m doing. And not in that crazy-obsessive-over-protective-Dad way. Just a You’re-family-and-I-love-you way. _

_He won’t say a word to me. We just sit in silence and I know it must be weird for him, but it’s weird for me too and sitting in awkward silences in what used to be my second home (don’t you scoff, that Impala is amazing) is not helping._

_Uncle Sam’s no better. When he and Dad aren’t participating in awkward silences with me, or the very occasional bout of harmless teasing that almost reminds me of home, they’re arguing all the time._

_I wish Luce were here. He’d have this whole big plan that would be needlessly complicated and make me laugh just at the thought of it, but it would work and then everything would be ok._

_I’ve never been too far from him. Never. Even growing up, he was always there with an ear, a shoulder, and a vengeful, flaming sword if needed. Now he’s just . . . gone. And I can’t even feel him. And he doesn’t know I exist and I just . . . I don’t know what to do._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Elizabeth hardly cared that her dad was talking to someone on the phone. That in and of itself said a lot.

Usually, when Dad was on the phone, ever since she was little, she’d use just a tiny hint of that “special-ness” as Gandpa Bobby used to call it (“mojo” when he thought she couldn’t hear) to listen in. Now, however, he mind was preoccupied on other things. Besides, who cared about some random, Caleb guy? She’d never heard of him.

Besides, she had bigger things to worry about.

Bigger things like Luce. 

What the hell (no pun intended) was he doing in the damnable  _Cage!_  He didn’t belong there! Sure, he’s done some stuff in his past (stuff that kept her dad awake at night, stuff that made Uncle Gabriel and Michael not talk to him for days on end sometimes), but . . .  _The Cage?_

After her initial thought of,  _I’ve got to get him out_  was shot down by an incredibly cranky Grandpa via Uncle Josh, she’d been in a bit of a fit.

It wasn’t natural, moving around any plane of existence and not feeling the warmth and cold of Luce’s Grace flitting against hers every now and then. Even in her deepest dreams, she couldn’t find him.

 

**_“The Cage’s purpose is to find a torment specific to the person,” Uncle Josh explained. “More specific than anything in Hell or Purgatory. For Lucifer, that includes being completely cut off from his Grace.”_ **

**_“You made him human,” Elizabeth accused, still more than a little furious with her family at this point. “You made one of the most powerful angels in existence human because he hated humans, and you think that’s going to help anything?”_ **

****

**_Uncle Josh, and Grandpa by extension, looked at her sadly. “No,” he said. “No one ever did”_ **

****

I was just frustrating. He was so close, a week’s flight away, but she knew she couldn’t see him. This Luce wasn’t  _her_  Luce, and she doubted that, in the insanity The Cage probably left him in, he probably wouldn’t handle her presence as well as her dad and Uncle Sam.

*“You know, maybe we should call the Feds,” Uncle Sam said eventually. “File a missing persons.”

Elizabeth snorted. Wow, civilian life did  _nothing_  for Uncle Sam, did it? Missing person? And what were they supposed to say?  _“Oh, our drunk, possibly abusive father was out hunting the demon that’s been terrorizing our family for generations as is possibly plotting to destroy the world and resurrect Lucifer. Can you keep an eye out for him?”_

Yeah. That was bound to go over really well. Especially when the very nice men in the pretty white coats showed up with their tasty medicine.

*“We’ve talked about this,” Elizabeth’s dad growled. “Dad’d be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail.”

*“I don’t care anymore,” Uncle Sam claimed.

Elizabeth fought a snort. She remembered John Winchester. The guy who’s not allowed to come within fifty feet of her unless at least one aunt of uncle and Mammy Mary was around. Elizabeth had been drawing in on every ounce of self control she had not to wonder why they cared at all. Especially her dad.

Her dad’s ringtone brought her out of her musings, but she went straight back to them as her uncle and dad began to argue over Kansas.

Suddenly, Elizabeth’s entire spine began to tingle, her wings fluttered, and her eyes narrowed towards a silent, invisible figure in the corner while the two brothers began to talk about the coordinates.

 **..::Get out of here::..** Elizabeth hissed heatedly, glaring at the intruder.  **..::Your interference is unwelcomed::..**

The figure seemed confused for a moment before becoming annoyed.  **..::Know your place little one::..** It ordered.  **..::One would think that respect for one’s betters would be a timeless thing::..**

 **..::Not when they endanger family::..** Elizabeth growled, careful to keep an extra eye on her father and uncle.  **..::You are not one of Uncle Zachariah’s lackies, and you’re not Zachariah. You shouldn’t be here any more than me::..** Elizabeth saw that the argument/conversation (she really hadn’t been paying enough attention to tell the difference at the time) between her father and uncle came to an end, and Elizabeth decided that her own should as well.  **..::I cannot speak to you now. Begone!::..**  With that, and a little trick Uncle Gabriel taught her a while back, she pushed the intruder out of the room. After all, he certainly wasn’t anyone important. All the Angels were _supposed_  to be in heaven right now, and she would know Uncle Gabriel or Grandpa anywhere. After all, why would they hide from her?

*“ . . . Dad’s telling us to go somewhere, we’re going,” Dean shouted finally, drawing Elizabeth back into the room just as Uncle Sam made one of his famous Bitchfaces.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Elizabeth sat in the Implala and sulked. Really? They _still_  hadn’t made any false identities for her? Seriously?! God, this was embarrassing. She hadn’t been left in the car since she was ten! TEN! And now she'd been abandoned like some armature!

Besides, it's not like she couldn't get in . . .

Sweet Grandpa Chuck she was an idiot.

Walking up to the bar, Elizabeth carefully changed her attire. She didn't want all eyes on her (Luce was the most possessive man she'd ever met), but she definitely wanted Gunderson's attention. So her plain jeans were traded in for a worn pair of very short blue jean shorts and her black tank was traded in for a very nice crop top.

She saw no need to switch out her combat boots though. No need to be stupid about this.

Charming the guard outside was easy enough. After all, when a man's mind is easily place (say, on her chest as opposed to the piece of paper she just handed him) it's pretty easy to  _persuade_  them into thinking just what you want. Like that a random parking ticket is actually a perfectly valid I.D.

Just as she walked into the bar, she saw her uncle shove her dad away from some guy, walking away. Really? The old "Rescue From a Reporter" con? Wow, they've come up in the world.

Gunderson was easy pickings. His mind was wide open. Getting him to open up to Sam, however, that was going to take a little effort on Elizabeth’s part.

 

* * *

 

 

“That,” Elizabeh said, walking up to her uncle and father, “Was just shy of sad.” She shook her head as she looked at the two. “Really?”

 

“Hey,” Dean said, his face not as soft as before. “It works, and what part of ‘Stay in the car’ did you not understand?”

 

Elizabeth frowned. “The part where the twenty three year old has to stay in the car like some underage teenager,” she growled.

 

Which Dean Winchester was not having apparently. “You’ve got no I.D.,” he said. “No phone, no way of communication or transporting yourself. You can’t just run off into the night when you feel like it. That’s _not_ how this works!”

 

“I know how this works Dad!” Elizabeth yelled. “I’ve been at it a pretty damn long time!”

 

“You’ll noticed that I don’t care!” Dean yelled back, ignoring Sam’s attempts at calming the two down. “It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been hunting or how old you are, you’re still my daughter and, guess what, I’m going to treat you like it!”

 

Elizabeth’s wings flared, not that anyone could see them. “I’m not a little girl anymore Dad!” She screamed. “I’ve taken on demons, ghosts, and everything in between. Some pervy drunkard who’s drowning his sorrows in a pint doesn’t scare me!”

 

“But he scares me!”

 

The two stopped, looking at each other carefully. Finally, Elizabeth sighed and her hackles, and her wings, fell. This wasn’t fair. Dean wasn’t used to being a father just yet. He hadn’t had time to watch her learn and grow and make all the mistakes that he _knew_ she was going to make and learn from them.

 

That was when she realized: she wasn’t angry that Dean didn’t trust her. She was angry that Dean wasn’t acting like her father. And that’s not his fault.

 

Meanwhile, Dean was having an inner monologue of his own.

 

Coming back to the car and not seeing Elizabeth inside had scared the shit out of him. More so than any time he’d lost sight of Sammy as a kid. This must be the backfire to knowing all the dark things in the corners of the world: you’re always waiting for them to take something else. Like your daughter.

 

“I’m a strong girl,” Elizabeth said eventually, looking her father dead in the eye. “You two made sure of that.”

 

Finally, Dean too relaxed. “That’s my girl.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Thankfully, the argument didn’t present itself again before they entered the asylum.

 

“I’m assuming you know how to use this,” Dean has said, handing Elizabeth a very nice revolver (he always knew her favorites) as the exited her second home. “You stay with me or your Uncle Sammy. Clear?”

 

“Crystal,” she said, taking the revolver before squeezing his left shoulder in a ritual that hadn’t started yet.

 

Once inside, the two let Sam take the lead. *“So,” he said, moving his flashlight around. “Apparently, the cops chased the kids here . . . into the South Wing.” Elizabeth looked and saw the sign just as a shiver ran up and down her spine, like someone was rubbing an ice cube against her skin. Yep, definitely something hinky going on here.

 

“But if the kids are spelunking the asylum,” Dean asked, careful to look around as he spoke. *“Why aren’t there a ton more deaths?”

 

“Could be something they said,” Elizabeth supplied, keeping a close eye on her surroundings and making sure her Grace was taut. Just in case. “They could’ve made a _really_ bad ‘That’s what she said’ jokes. We don’t know.”

 

Dean looked at her and smiled. Oh yeah. This was his kid.

 

“I don’t think so,” Sam said, nodding to a broken chain. *“Looks like the doors are usually chained. Could’ve been chained up for years.”

 

*“Yeah,” Dean said. “To keep people out. Or to keep something in.”

 

Elizabeth bit her lip. “Then who unchained it? The cops sure didn’t, and I doubt that the kids had the foresight to bring a pair of clippers with them.” She nodded to the thick chain by the door. “So who unlocked it in the first place?”

 

* * *

 

 

Elizabeth hated walking in silence. Thankfully, so did her father. *“Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel,” Dean said.

 

 _Who’s Haley Joel?_ Elizabeth thought.

 

*”Dude, enough,” Sam growled, completely oblivious to his niece’s confusion.

 

*“I’m serious,” Dean said, his tone making Elizabeth seriously wonder if he _was_ joking or not. “You gotta be careful, alright? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you got going on.”

 

Elizabeth snorted, trying to make it sound as quiet as she could. This was very serious.

 

*“I told you,” Sam muttered angrily, “It’s not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes. Weird dreams.”

 

*“Yeah, whatever,” Dean finally grumbled. “Don't ask, don't tell.”

 

Now Elizabeth felt a bit guilty for laughing earlier. Uncle Sam never had ESP (which was very real as her Aunt Pam often told her). That left very few options open for what was really going on with Uncle Sam, and she _really_ hoped it wasn’t the worst one.

 

After all, why would Uncle Sam be drinking Demon blood in the first place?

 

* * *

 

 

Elizabeth didn’t go into the next room with her dad and uncle. Something was far too creepy about it, and Elizabeth had learned a long time ago that when her Grace didn’t want to go somewhere, odd are, she wasn’t supposed to go there.

 

She could hear them arguing inside, though, as she stood guard at the door. John. Again.

 

She could hardly fault either of them. Dean had always had this unwavering loyalty (which both he and Parental Unit 2 had instilled in her deeply) and the man _was_ his father.

 

Not that he ever showed it as far as Elizabeth heard, but still.

 

And Sam was a rebel. In fact, this current Sam reminded Elizabeth a lot of Luce. A deep seeded hatred of a father figure because, let’s face it, he kind of sucks at being a father. (Elizabeth would like to point out that Grandpa Chuck is just a really great Grandpa, but still sucks as a father).

 

They both had reasons to be angry. But did they have to argue on the job?

 

* * *

 

 

Uncle Sam was going into therapy. Oh, Grandpa Cuck, the number of jokes she was going to make when she got back. Uncle Gabriel was going to be so proud.

 

“So,” Dean said, looking at Elizabeth in the rearview mirror. “About your mom . . .”

 

Elizabeth cut that off right there. “No way,” Elizabeth said, smirking at him. “I’m not giving anything away about Parental Unit #4108.” Elizabeth was going to have to be very careful about this. From the way her dad spoke and acted, he was probably not aware that he was gay yet. Or bisexual. Or, in her family’s case, angel-sexual. Better to just play this _really_ safe. Worst case scenario: she starts referring to her papa as “Mom”. It’s not like he was gonna hear.

 

“Come on,” Dean said, smiling at her. “Gimmie a hint!”

 

Elizabeth sighed. She knew that look. That was the ‘I’m Making This Sound Like A Request Elizabeth Marry-Ann Winchester, But Do Not Think That It Is One’ Look. She sighed.

 

“I’ll tell you one thin, and one thing only,” Elizabeth said. “And that does not include name or any identifying information. I’m screwing up the time line as is. Make your choice.”

 

Dean was quiet for a while. A long while. Elizabeth started to get a little worried. She’d been hoping he’d ask something stupid, but obviously not.

 

“Do I love her?” Dean finally asked, turning around to look at Elizabeth with piercing eyes. “And does she love me?”

 

Now it was Elizabeth’s turn to be very quiet. For a while. Never in her incredibly long life had she ever thought that either of her fathers would _ever_ doubt the love between them. Then again, Dean thought she had a mother, and that said a lot.

 

“In my whole life,” Elizabeth whispered eventually, “And in the lives of just about everyone around you two, _no one_ has ever seen two creatures love each other as much as you two.” Elizabeth smiled as she thought to a picture on her laptop that she often looked at in the dead of night when her dad and uncle were knocked out.

 

It was hardly a fancy picture. No photographer had taken it. Her cousin Charlie had gotten a new camera for Christmas and was trying out the stalled picture thing. Uncle Gabe was poking Uncle Sam’s face, and she could hear Uncle Sam in her head, telling him to knock it off with a sweet voice that held no malice. Uncle Uri and Uncle Mike were frowning, trying to keep up pretense as they both always made a big deal about hating Christmas in general, but Elizabeth could see the warmth in their eyes as they looked at the younger children. Mammy Mary, Granny Ellen, Grandpa Bobby, and her Aunts Charlie, Jo, and Wendy were all laughing at something or another, not even knowing what was going on. Grandpa Chuck was smiling at Grandfather Death, who almost never came to Christmas, and Luce had hauled a very tiny Elizabeth into his arms and was tickling her relentlessly, a twinkle in his eye no one ever saw unless Elizabeth was in the room.

 

But the focus of the picture, the reason she looked at it so often, was her two fathers, curled up in an armchair that was not made for more than one person. Papa was tucked into Dad’s chest, curled into a ball. Dad was smiling down at Papa with a gleeful look on his face. The two seemed more at peace with the world than anyone Elizabeth had ever met.

 

“You two give this . . . this sense of calm to each other that I’ve never seen before,” Elizabeth said, her smile saddened at the obvious lack of Papa she could feel in her soul and Grace. “When you’re in the room, you move around each other, like you’re both in the other’s head and know where they’re moving, even when they don’t. And the way you two look at each other,” Elizabeth sighed. “You don’t look at anyone else the way you two look at each other.” Elizabeth looked in her father’s eyes, where she saw a mixture of emotions (relief, longing, loss, love, pain) and fought not to cry. “You love each other very much.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Sam finally returns, which is much later than Elizabeth thought he would, Her father takes advantage of his lateness to try and cover up their “chick flick moment”.

 

*“Dude,” he said, frowning, “You were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?”

 

Elizabeth zones out. She knows a bit what probably happened. The South wing held the criminal nut jobs. Apparently, they rioted sometime in 1964. Went after anything that moved. Even each other. Apparently both staff and patients were killed, including the Chief of Staff, Ellicott, but some of the bodies were never found.

 

Cause, you know, That just the kind of thing you wanna hear. You’re investigating a haunted asylum where a number of bodies are probably stuffed in the walls by crazy patients. Just great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked this chapter, mostly cause it has more interaction with Dean and Elizabeth. I just feel like Dean would kind of avoid her for a while. Just cause he's not sure how to go about. On the one hand, he has to be total Alpha-Dad in protection mode and ripped, roaring to gut someone if they look at her wrong. On the other hand, he knows that she's an adult and that that might not go over well if he wasn't like that before.
> 
> Also, three things. One: Dean was not being OOC when he yelled at Elizabeth. That is a totally justified reaction. If I walked out of a bar filled with people I don't know, and my daughter is not in that car, exactly where I left her, and there's no note from her or anything saying she left of her own free will, nor do I have any way of contacting her, I would freak. Add to that that they're on an obviously dangerous job and how the women in the Winchester family seem to die often when left alone, Dean is perfectly justified in freaking out when his only child vanishes while on a hunt. That is him being a dad.
> 
> Two: Head-Cannon, Dean has always been bisexual, he just hasn't said anything to anyone because he's scared of what his Dad and Bobby will think. So, when Dean meets Elizabeth, his brain automatically assumes that he settled down with a nice girl. But Dean also is incredibly self-depricating, so there's that little bit of him that's scared that he just had a random one night stand and he'll never be loved by the mother of his child the way his mother loved his father. So when he asks whether he loved Elizabeth's "Mom", that's him giving into that fear. Just saying.
> 
> Three: Elizabeth hates John Winchester. I mean, she HATES him. He's usually really mean to everyone but Mary when he's around, and even then, he can lose it sometimes, and that's just not OK with Elizabeth. I know that some people always say that John would have been better if Mary hadn't died, but I think we all remember that scene when (SPOILERS) Dean and Sam are in Heaven, and Dean has to comfort Marry after she and John have a fight, which is the result of another fight that got him kicked out of the house by his pregnant wife. John Winchester is an asshole. He has been rated Doucheiest Dad several times. The only contender he's ever had is Odin from Thor! That's right, he beat the guy who was going to use his adoptive son as a bargaining chip to end a war. John Winchester sucks as a father, and Elizabeth knows it.
> 
> Once again, I am incredibly sorry for the wait and I will try not to do that again. I love you all.
> 
> Your Kudos will keep me OFF of the Hannigram Fics. And your comments will keep me ON my keyboard. Au Revoir!


	6. In Which Elizabeth's Grace Would Very Much Like To NOT Go Into The Asylum Full of Weirdo Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy Guys! What's happening? she asks awkwardly because she realizes this update took WAY to much time, and is appropriately ashamed. In my defence, though, we have a new addition to our family! Yep, Gavin Lloyd is the first Greatgrandchild for my grandmother (The mom is my cousin) and the first baby to hit my side of the family in eighteen years (read: since I came up two years earlier than the adoption agency told my mom I would). Lucky for Baby Gavin, though, we were much more prepared for him than anyone was for me, so HE didn't have to sleep in a drawer.
> 
> That being said, he didn't exactly come around easily, so in the month before and after my cousin had her rather difficult C-Section, I was on Cousin-sitting duty, so I didn't have a lot of time to sit and write, and, when I did, I had no access to this episode, which I always like to watch when I'm writing. 
> 
> Thankfully, that's all done with and my cousin no longer has to worry obsessivly over whether or not she might pop a staple.
> 
> Now if she could just stop showing me the staples to discorage me from having sex that only happens vicariously through the amunt of slash fanfiction I read, life would be perfect.
> 
> Once again, anything with a * nxt to it belongs to the original writers of the episode, which I named in the last chapter (yes, I am too lazy to go back and look).

_I **am** correct in assuming I’ve mentioned my absolute hatred of ghosts, right? No? Well then, I absolutely abhor the bastards. Seriously. I know there are some nice ones, and I know that, most of the time, it’s not their fault they’re stuck here. That being said, **they have the worst fucking timing ever**. Seriously. It’s like all of them just look at you and go “Oh, are you having an emotional moment with you boyfriend/just-turned-fiance-because-he- **just-fucking-proposed**? Well, that doesn’t matter to us. We’re bitter; therefore, you will be as well.”_

_And you see! It worked! They ruined my engagement, though it’s hard to be as angry about it because Luce being sweet is such a rarity that I will cherish **all** those memories, and **we** had to help them move on. Seriously. They interfere in my life, and get rewarded._

_That being said, this job is getting on my nerves more and more as time goes on. Honestly, Just leaving right now? That would be awesome._

_But we can’t, because that would mean abandoning all these people to some psycho ghost who could probably do a lot of damage but . . ._

_I don’t know. I just don’t know anything anymore, do I?_

 

* * *

 

 

Elizabeth could tell before they even entered the building that something was vaguely wrong. Someone else was inside, and she was sure one or two of the ghosts weren’t going to appreciate that. Not at all.

But it’s not like she could say anything. What was she going to just go, _“Hey, Dad, FYI, the magical abilities I get from my dual lineage of Angel and your awesomeness sometimes lets me know weird things and there’s a couple of stupid kids inside.”_ Yeah. That would go over sooooo well.

Biting her tongue, Elizabeth kept her rifle in her hand, and her Grace nice and ready. Just in case she misinterpreted some of Dad’s translations in his journal.

And if she silently added just a little bit of magical mojo to the salt rounds, that was no concern of anyone else’s.

Or if she sent a prayer to Luce.

*“Getting readings?” Her uncle asked, looking strangely at the video camera in his hand.

*“Yeah,” her dad answered, looking at his Walkman/EMP reader (which she was proud to say was used up until she accidentally broke it when she was ten). “Big time.”

*“This place is orbing like crazy,” Sam said, looking at the various glowing lights on his screen. Had he not been so used to such things, it would have definitely creeped him out.

Elizabeth didn’t need to look at the screen to see that Sam was right. Little balls of light floated in front of her vision, making her Grace incredibly uncomfortable. These spirits didn’t want to be here. Most wanted to leave. Elizabeth was willing to bet that a few had tried. Something was keeping the spirits here, but what? Another spirit? A curse? Oh, Grandpa Chuck she hoped it was the first one. Elizabeth _hates_ witches.

*“Probably multiple spirits out and about,” her dad said, still looking at the EMP which was slowly losing its mechanical mind.

Her uncle Sam looked around, his built-in survival instinct probably telling him that this place was _not_ safe and they should probably leave. Soon. *“And if these uncovered bodies are causing the haunting...” Sam trailed off, looking at Elizabeth with careful eyes.

*“We gotta find ’em and burn ’em,” Dean said, trying very hard to ignore his daughter’s odd behavior. Obviously he had trained her well. Her stance was good, she held her gun well, but Dean couldn’t get over the way her eyes got this crazy movement to them, like they were looking at everything, waiting for something to jump out and attack them. While he was grateful he’d instilled survival techniques in her, Dean couldn’t help but feel a sting that his daughter was as paranoid about the world as he was. “Just be careful though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit... is the pissed off spirit of a psycho killer.”

“You have yet to meet Uncle Balthazar I take it then,” Elizabeth said, trying to ease the mood as she constantly looked around her, sure she was sensing _something_ , but unable to tell what. “Uncle Gabriel made him listen to the entire piano version of the soundtrack to the Titanic movie on loop for six hours. That was the last time anyone saw Celine Dion.”

Despite her light tone, Elizabeth couldn’t help but shiver as she saw a flash of white behind her, and something that looked suspiciously like a strait-jacket. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Lizzie,” Sam finally asked, unable to take it anymore. “Are you okay?” At the younger girl’s confused look, Sam elaborated, “It’s just . . . you’re incredibly jumpy. I get that this place is creepy, it’s got us all on edge, but you keep looking at things where nothing’s there and-”

“And you’re worried I’m seeing things that aren’t there,” Elizabeth sighed. It wasn’t angry or rude, just resigned. It wasn’t like Elizabeth _could_ get mad. Her uncle was worried, and justifiably. She _was_ acting odd, all things considered. “I’m fine Uncle Sammy,” she said eventually, trying very hard to ignore the bright, red ball of light net to her uncle’s head. “I just – there’s just a lot of stuff that I feel around here that you and Dad can’t. Not all of it’s malicious, some of these spirits are just trapped and _can’t_ find a way out until something major happens probably, but there’s definitely something here that is not a nice person. Or was.” Elizabeth made a face. “I can’t tell where it’s coming from, or who it is or anything like that. It’s just a feeling.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding along with her, “I get that.” And he did. It was like his visions. It wasn’t something he could really explain all that well, but he just _knew_ what was going on. If Elizabeth had something similar, odds are that whatever these dreams were, they probably were passed down via family.

And if that wasn’t a relief to Sam, he didn’t know what was.

 

* * *

 

 

Elizabeth wanted it on record that she now _hated_ this job. With a fire passion matching that of a thousand suns. She kept seeing ghosts _everywhere_ , but they weren’t the types of ghosts just anyone could see (Aunt Pam would probably see them if she was there but . . .) so she just kept quiet and ignored the creepy looks from the crazy Hannibal Lecter wanna-be in the corner.

Until some old lady got _way_ too up close and personal with her Uncle.

*“Dean?” Sam called out, staring at the old woman with a deformed face that was slowly moving towards him, no longer on the camera screen anymore, but right in front of him. “Dean! Shotgun!”

Dean and Elizabeth reacted immediately. Dean bellowed for Sam to drop down while Elizabeth shot the old woman once, right in the face, with her revolver. Obviously surprised, the old woman vanished, leaving nothing in her wake but a memory of smoke that would probably haunt Elizabeth’s dreams that night. Elizabeth waited for the inevitable onslaught of rage that would accompany the dispelling. Angry spirits seldom appreciated it when their attacks were interrupted.

Strangely enough, it never came. Elizabeth continued to wait for some kind of reaction, but nothing. A tiny hint of sadness permeated the air, leaving a bitter, salty taste in her mouth, but, other than that, there was nothing.

*“That was weird,” Uncle Sam said, looking around strangely, as if waiting for another ghost to appear.

*“Yeah,” Dean said breathlessly as he grabbed a bag and began to leave the room. “You’re telling me.”

Sam and Elizabeth followed, both with careful frowns on their faces, Elizabeth’s contemplating while Sam’s being confused.

*“No,” Sam said, still looking jumbled. “I mean it was weird that she didn’t attack me.”

Dean scoffed at the idea. *“She looked pretty agro from where I was standing,” he growled, obviously upset over something.

“She didn’t hurt me,” Sam argued. “She didn’t even try.”

“He’s right Dad,” Elizabeth said. “That ghost was standing there for a good couple of seconds before any of us even noticed her. She could have done a lot of damage, but she didn’t.”

“Exactly,” Sam said, grateful to finally have someone on his side for once. *“So if she didn’t want to hurt me, what did she want?” Before either brother could answer, Elizabeth’s head shot to the side as she heard the quiet sound of a heartbeat, followed by a much more easily heard (by human ears at least) whimper.

All three pairs of eyes zoomed in on a turned over bed, which was obviously hiding _something._

Silently, all three Winchesters slowly made their way over to the corner, where Elizabeth could see the top of a girl’s head. The second she saw it, she relaxed, if only slightly. Ghosts, to her, tend to have this ethereal glow around their edges, almost like the ones in movies; the girl in the corner was perfectly human.

Sam pulled back the bed, startling the blonde half to death from the way she jerked about. Finally, she looked up, her tear and sweat-covered face illuminated by the light of the flashlight. “It’s alright,” her dad assured the girl, lowering his shotgun. *“We’re not gonna hurt you.” The girl looked unconvinced as Sam turned off the flashlight and, honestly, Elizabeth couldn’t blame her. “It’s okay,” Dean said soothingly as the girl slowly rose from the floor, eyes glued on the three. “What’s your name?”

*“Katherine,” she answered automatically. “Kat,” she later corrected.

*“I’m Dean,” her dad said, introducing himself. “This is Sam, and my d-sister, Elizabeth.” Elizabeth waved minutely, a comforting smile on her face to try and calm the young girl down.

*“What are you doing here?” Sam asked incredulously, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but snort. Really? A girl this pretty in a place this creepy? There’s only one option, and Elizabeth’s willing to bet fifty bucks she doesn’t have that it has _everything_ to do with a boy.

*“Um . . M-My boyfriend, Gavin—” What did Elizabeth just say?

*“Is he here?” her Dad said, interrupting Kat and Elizabeth’s thoughts.

*“Somewhere,” Kat answered, and Elizabeth could see the mix of irritation and worry on the girl’s face and in her voice. Odd’s are, this whole stupid trip was Gavin’s idea, and Elizabeth was willing to bet that the idiot had run off and left poor Kat alone. “He thought it would be fun, to try and see some ghosts,” she said, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but worry. All those terrible clichés _and_ her name was Kate? She wasn’t sure this kid was gonna make it out of here. “I thought it was all just . . .”

“ . . . Made up?” Elizabeth guessed, hoping to end one more cliché moment before it even began.

Kat nodded. *“I’ve seen things,” she said wrapping her arms and cardigan around herself. “I heard Gavin scream and—”

Dean cut her off before she made herself go any further. *“Alright, Kat, come on. Sam’s gonna get you out of here. Then we’re gonna find your boyfriend.” Dean gently grabbed her arm and began leading her towards the door.

Elizabeth, just glad _she_ hadn’t been regulated to baby-sitting duty couldn’t help but look at her Uncle Sam’s bitch face #521 The-Hell-You-Are-Making-Me-Do-This-Dean/Cas/Liz/Gabe-I Am-A-Grown-Ass-Man.

Sadly, Kat began to argue before Sam could. “No, no,” she said, trying to pull herself out of Dean’s grasp. *“I’m not gonna leave without Gavin. I’m coming with you.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel a mixture of respect and irritation with Kat. On the one hand, a.) You go girl for standing up to two full grown men for what you believe in and b.) Way to go for being a hell of a lot more loyal to Gavin than he seems to have been to you. On the other hand, Kat was _not_ displaying a lot of intelligence to Elizabeth right now.

*“It’s no joke around here,” Dean said seriously, not at all warming up to the idea of having to protect Kat _and_ his daughter. “It’s dangerous.”

“Da-ean is right Kat,” Elizabeth said, not at all looking forward to having to deal with someone who didn’t think that hanging out in an abandoned asylum was a terrible freaking idea. “You can’t stay here.”

*“That’s why I’ve got to find him,” Kat said resolutely, and, suddenly, Elizabeth wasn’t so sure she liked Kat at all. Something about her tone, the way she held herself just screamed, ‘Something is not right here’.

*“Alright,” Dean said, clearly displeased. “I guess we’re gonna split up then.” He motioned Kat to follow him. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

This was so incredibly stupid.

That was all Elizabeth could think as she made her way through the south wing, not even bothering to call Gavin’s name. If he was close enough to hear her, then she’d be able to tell. As it was, she and Sam were wandering around on their own while her dad got to go with Kat, who still wigged Elizabeth just a bit too much to be around alone.

Maybe it was nothing, or maybe there really, _was_ something up about her, something niggling in the back of her mind that just _bothered her._ Maybe it was the way she spoke earlier or her stance. Either this girl was a natural hunter, or she was hiding something, and Elizabeth was fairly certain it was the last one.

That being said, she’d promised both her father’s she wouldn’t just dip into someone’s head, and, considering her waving off their advice about arbitrary time travel, Elizabeth felt like taking _some_ of her childhood advice to heart while she was here.

Elizabeth huffed out a breath. This was far too complicated. She was sure it would have gone much better had Luce, or Uncle Gabe, or _someone from her time_ were there, and maybe that was the problem: Elizabeth was far too used to their presence. Without them, as she remembered, Elizabeth wasn’t entirely sure what to do with herself.

When you’re a Winchester, everything revolves around family. Every aspect of you revolves around your family. Is it always all that healthy? Probably not. But that means nothing to them. They’re family end of discussion.

And, if those screams from somewhere in the general vasinity of where she could feel her father’s soul were any indication, that was the end of her train of thought. For now.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? 
> 
> I'm trying to let Elizabeth in the story while not tampering with it too much. After all, it's already awesome, and I don't want to change it too much and wind up making this too complicated.
> 
> And yes, I totally felt bad about making Sam feel comforted by the fact that Elizabeth's ESP is passed down. But there really is no other explination Elizabeth (or I) can think to give for the multiple times she's GOING to space out and freak everyone out.
> 
> Finally, I meant to mention this in the last chapter, but can anyone figure out why Cas is refered to as Unit #4108? I'll give cookies to whoever figures it out!


	7. Chapter 7. In Which Elizabeth Suddenly Realizes That Her Entire Family Probably Went To Joint Therapy At Some Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back and incredibly sorry. Finals happened. Then the first baby to hit my family in eighteen years happened. Then my computer got a virus that whipped out all of my word processor. Then college happened again. Then a vacation in the middle of the atlantic happened. Then people happened. So this didn't happen. But it's happening now and I'm going to be late for class so bye!

_Everyone in the Winchester family has homicidal rages. I think it’s genetic at this point. Still, it’s never really turned on one another, you know? Dad’ll be on of the first people you see in a bar fight if someone says something about me, but when we’re all together, it’s like we’re all totally zen._

_And don’t get me started on Papa. Angel of the lord or not, he’s always so calm cool and collected. And Uncle Sam? A giant teddy-moose. I swear. I can’t actually recall the last time I ever saw any of them genuinely angry at each other._

_We’re a family that keeps our cool when we’re together, you know?_

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Elizabeth got to them, Sam had already shown up with whateverhisnameis and her dad was bellowing loudly, “She’s stuck in there with one of the fuckers.”

“HELP ME!” Kat screamed, and I threw just a tiny portion of myself into the room. _No_ I thought, staring at the apparition in front of her. _This can’t be right. There’s no malice, just . . ._

*“Kat,” her Uncle called through the door, “Listen to me, it’s not gonna hurt you.” Normally she would scoff at her uncle’s overly trusting nature, but, for once, she had to agree. “You just have to face it. You have to calm down.”

Alright, that line was stupid; if she wished hard enough could she bring Tinkerbell back to life too?

“I have to _what?”_ Kat screamed through the door, and, honestly, Elizabeth couldn’t blame her.

“They’re not trying to hurt anyone *They’re trying to communicate! You’ve got to face it!”

Of course! That’s why Elizabeth couldn’t sense any malice directed towards them. The spirits aren’t _after_ them. But that still leaves the question of who, and how to get Kat to calm down enough to get her to listen to whatever clues the ghost was trying to give.

*“ _You face it!”_ Kat screeched, and Elizabeth could barely hold back a laugh. Wow, the Winchesters really did have a ways to go.

*“Listen to me, it’s the only way you’re gonna get out of there,” Sam said

 _Not exactly true,_ Elizabeth thought, _but close enough_.

“No!”

Alright, seriously, it’s time this ended, Elizabeth slipped back to the other side of the door, prepared to kick it in with some extra angel-mojo for good measure and _take_ what she needed from these guys, when she heard her uncle scream, *“You have to face it. You can do this!”

While Elizabeth _was_ tired of this place and the way it made her skin crawl, perhaps it was best to sit back and just let this play out. She may not know everything about he fathers’ pasts, but she knows a defining moment when she sees one. Time to see if they should have marched Kat out of the building, or if bringing her along was the right idea.

The hallway was silent, save for the panting breaths of the men around her. She could barely hear Kat’s own breath from the other side of the heavy door, and relegated herself to simply waiting and watching, worried deep in her Grace that, perhaps, this was wrong.

What if this girl was one of the many innocents her family had failed to save. What if part of the reason Grandpa Chuck, selfish prick he was being, brought her here was to save her? What if she failed?

*“I hope you’re right about this,” her father said, drawing her attention away from her thoughts as she fearfully panicked for a moment, praying she hadn’t voiced her fears aloud.

*“Yeah,” her uncle answered, slowing Elizabeth’s heart just a bit as she heard his despondent answer. “Me too.”

Elizabeth didn’t look up from the door though, waiting, begging her father, uncles, aunts, every being she could name, that she hadn’t failed-

Her silent prayers cut off as the door clicked and slowly opened, revealing a disheveled, possibly shock-ridden Kat, who practically fell out of the room, a blank look on her face.

Elizabeth grabbed her around the shoulders, flowing as much comforting magic as she knew into her to calm her obviously rattled nerves while her dad and uncle ran into the room to check it out.

“You alright?” Elizabeth asked, arms still around her. “Couldn’t’ve been easy.”

Instead of answering, Kat simply nodded. *“137,” she said eventually, her voice not shaking as one would have probably expected.

“Come again,” Elizabeth said, for her father’s benefit if no one else’s

*“That’s what it whispered in my ear: 137.”

All three Winchesters looked at each other in synch.

*“Room number.”

Leaving Kat in the possibly-incompetent hands of her boyfriend, sure that Kat could handle just about anything short of a demon right about now, Elizabeth leaned in to listen to the two “elder” hunters.

*“Alright,” Sam said, looking at Dean, “So if these spirits aren’t trying to hurt anyone—”

“Which they haven’t yet,” Elizabeth interjected.

“Then what are they trying to do?” Dean finished, looking at his daughter.

“And what’s up with the cop?” She asked, still a creeping crawling sensation that reminded her of the time Uncle Gabe had switched the water in her and Luce’s shower to worms in an attempt to prank Luce.

He didn’t get Christmas presents that year.

“Okay,” Dean said, looking at the two teens, *“You two ready to leave this place?”

Kat nodded and Elizabethcouldn’tcareless followed suit. *“That’s an understatement.”

After that, the two split into teams. Sam would take the kids out of the building, Dean and Elizabeth were going Ghost Busting.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re mom must’ve wanted to kill me when you were growing up,” Dean grumbled. “I probably took you on all kinds of hunts.”

Elizabeth smirked. “Not gonna lie. The other Parental Unit _did_ throw a fit my first ghost hunt. You kinda forgot to mention you were taking me along.” A laugh bubbled up from her chest. “I swear, everyone was _so_ mad at you, I’m surprised you got to sleep on the couch instead of in the dog house!”

Elizabeth remembered that day clearly. Dad was two steps short of skipping with pride before they got home and Papa bear tore into him like Angel Blade. She was honestly shocked there was anything left of her dad after the screaming match those two got into, which ended with her getting ice cream for a job well done and her dad spending a week on their family couch, which Papa had purposefully made less comfortable to get his point across.

Which wasn’t that bad compared to what happened the first time they went windego hunting together up in Baltimore.

“It’s family tradition,” Elizabeth explained. “Everyone does it, and no one _really_ gets mad about it as long as everyone’s safe.”

Suddenly, the two became silent as they stared at the three numbers etched into the door in front of them.

Inside was what Elizabeth assumed was once an office before David Bowie’s version of the Cleaner probably came through.

The two wondered around the room silently, both taking in as many details as they could while still keeping a close eye on the other, just to make sure they were still there.

Elizabeth kept a feeler out for any unwelcomed visitors, but, with all the hatred and malice she could feel in this room alone, she’d be genuinely surprised if she did notice the minute difference that would be the formation of whatever was causing it.

“Hey,” Dean called, drawing her attention to a hole he’d found in the lower half of a wall. “Check this out.” Elizabeth watched as he yanked off the wooden panel to reveal a leather satchel that just screamed “BAD IDEA DO NOT TOUCH”.

So of course he pulled it out because he’s her dad and why the fuck not?

Inside, Dead pulled out what was labeled as “Patients Journal”. What could possibly go wrong with this picture? A disturbing picture that was slowly forming in her mind.

Elizabeth watched her father flip the pages, taking one chair while he took the other. While she couldn’t read too much of the sloppy doctor’s handwriting, the pictures the good doctor had drawn of saws, scissors, and body parts made her hair curl.

*“All work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a _very_ dull boy,” Dean said, eyes running along the pages.

“Looks like he played a little _too_ much,” Elizabeth said as she felt something behind her just before the world went black.

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, I should probably be worried about how my first grandchild apparently wants to throttle me.”

Elizabeth shot up at the words, looking around for the familiar face and frowning when all she saw was darkness. “This is not cool on a disturbingly large number of levels Grandpa Chuck,” she said, turning around. “And don’t think I can’t feel you making my body follow Dad! _So Not Cool!”_

A chuckle reverberated through the darkness. “Glad to see that Winchester fire never dies out. Now listen carefully. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Oh, now you wanna talk! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you and Uncle Gabe forever!” Elizabeth, grown ass woman that she is, stomped her foot and crossed her arms. “You are so not getting a Christmas present this year.”

Again, Elizabeth was frustrated to have her wrath met with only a laugh. “It’s good to know our family’s close, but listen. You haven’t got much time before Dean suspects something. I’m not quite sure _why_ you got sent back here.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Of course you’re not. Because _you_ didn’t send me. I’m willing to bet Future-You did though. Probably knows something you don’t.”

Everything was quiet for a moment. “Listen to me Lizzie. Your family . . . there’s gonna be some changes. And they’re gonna be ugly. And a lot of people are gonna get hurt. You’ve got to be ready for that. I can’t stop what’s been put in motion—”

“Or there’d be no point to free will,” Elizabeth finished. “I know. We all get the speech every year about how people make their own decisions, don’t let anyone tell you what to do, Winchesters are defiant by nature. We get the gist.”

Chuck sighed. “Just . . . know that I tried to stop what I could and will do what I can. Alright?”

And with that, the darkness was gone and Elizabeth was right back where she was earlier. Trapped in an evil insane asylum. Of course.

 

* * *

 

 

Of course Uncle Sam got captured by the ghost. Of course. It’s always gotta happen every freaking time!

But for once, could they have skipped this part? For Elizabeth’s dwindling sanity alone?

“Sam?!” Dean called, waving the flashlight around while Elizabeth kept her guard up. She could feel Sam’s presence, but it was diluted. Possessed. Because _no_ Winchester Ghost Hunt is complete without a fucking possession!

“Dammit Sammy!” Dean called when Sam suddenly appeared in front of them, silent as the grave. *“Answer when I call you!” Dean obviously looked Sam over for injuries, while Elizabeth eased herself away from the two. “You alright?” He asked.

While the two conversed (Grandpa Chuck this thing was good at acting), Elizabeth poked and prodded at the spirits around them. Maybe if she could rile them up enough, they’d drag Dr. Ellicott down to wherever it was they wanted to take the bastard.

*“How do you know that?” Not-Uncle-Sam asked, furrowing his brow.

*“I got a look at his log book,” Dean answered, seemingly completely oblivious to the fact that THIS WAS NOT UNCLE SAM! “he was experimenting on patients, grisly stuff. Makes a lobotomy look like an aspirin.”

 _Well,_ Elizabeth thought, _If we’re gonna piss off a ghost . . ._  “The guy was a Frankenstein wannabe,” she said, looking not at her uncle, but at the spirit she could see resting inside. “And his patients paid for it.”

Elizabeth could see the flinch, even if it wasn’t Sam who did it. *“But it was the patients who rioted,” he argued.

“Against psychotic experiments that probably traumatized them more than whatever got them put in here,” Elizabeth pointed out, feeling the rage seep through the air like smog.

*“He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger, then they’d be cured of it,” Dean explained. “Instead it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier.” He looked between the two. “I’m thinking what if his spirit is doing the same thing now.”

Elizabeth nodded. “The cop just now, those kids back in the 70’s. It wasn’t the patients who made them go homicidal, it was the nutty professor Halloween  edition.”

 

* * *

 

 

If her dad honestly couldn’t tell that this was NOT Uncle Sam, Elizabeth was going to genuinely believe she was sent here to make sure her idiot father didn’t get himself killed before she was born. By the time they’d found the “hidden room” Sam’s nose was already bleeding.

And now there was a hot gun pointed at her dad’s head. Wonderful.

*“I’m getting pretty tired of taking your orders,” Sam growled, shot gun aimed right at Dean.

“Uncle Sam,” Elizabeth said, carefully maneuvering one invisible wing in front of her dad, just in case. It would hurt like a bitch, but it’d be better than not existing.

*“I knew it,” Dean said, thankfully renewing her faith in her family. “Ellicott did something to you didn’t he.”

*“For once in your life, shut your mouth,” Sam growled. “And Lizzie, go back to Kat and Gavin. Now.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m not leaving without both of you behind me.”

*“What are you gonna do Sam, shoot me?” Dean asked. “Gun’s filled with rock salt, it’s not gonna kill me.”

The second the words were out of his mouth, the gun went off, ripping through Elizabeth’s wing and hitting Dean square in the chest and knocking him through the wall.

Elizabeth fell to the ground, entire body screaming in pain and her grace slowly fixed the rock salt. Were she completely and angel, it would be faster, but, as it was, Elizabeth couldn’t do much more than watch while her father tried to reason with his brother.

*“Sam,” he said. “We gotta burn Ellicott’s bones. Then everything’ll be back to normal.”

*“I _am_ normal,” Sam claimed, upper lip covered in blood. “I’m just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here?” He stepped closer, moving the gun into Dean’s face. “Cause you’re following Dad’s orders like a good, little soldier?” Elizabeth flinched at the words. Alright, perhaps poking and prodding at Ellicott wasn’t the best idea she’d ever come up with. “Cause you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?”

“Uncle Sam!” Elizabeth called, stumbling towards them. “Uncle Sam stop!” But it was like he didn’t even hear her.

*“That’s the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I’m not pathetic like the two of you.” As he spoke, he gestured to Elizabeth with the shotgun, and she could see the color drain from her dad’s face until it moved away again. “I mean, come on! Dad’s got you so into this single mode of thinking that you even did it to your own kid! What the hell Dean?! How could you do that to a kid! _Your_ kid!”

“Uncle Sam please, stop!” Elizabeth called, trying to reach the uncle underneath the rage. “You don’t want to kill Dad!”

*“No,” Sam agreed. “I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We’re no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago.”

*“Well then here,” Dean said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out . . . No. No no no no no! There is no way her dad is handing her psychotic, possessed uncle a gun! This _cannot_ be happening right now! “Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt.”

Why is he grabbing the gun? Why is her uncle grabbing the gun! More importantly, why is her father egging him on?!

*“Go on,” he said, staring his brother right in the eye. *“Do it!”

Sam pulled the trigger.

All Elizabeth heard was a click.

A click signaling the gun was empty.

A click signaling her dad was an asshole.

A click signaling her and her dad to both lunge at Sam the same time, Dean knocking him hard to the head, Elizabeth tackling him to the ground.

*“Man I’m not gonna give you a loaded pistol!” Dean said before knocking his brother clean out. “Sorry Sammy,” he said, patting him twice on the back.

“Let’s burn this bitch,” Elizabeth said, looking around, “Then get the hell out of here.”

Looking around, it hardly took long for them to find the body. It had been crammed into a pantry, decaying and reeking of death, like the bastard deserved.

Before they could burn him, though, a nearby bed rolled into them, knocking both Winchesters over.

*“Don’t be afraid,” Ellicott said, grabbing hold of her father’s face. “I’m going to make it all better.”

Elizabeth could see the electricity run across her father’s face. “Get off him!” She screamed, hauling herself up and towards the gun, distracting him just long enough for her father to throw his lighter and set the bastard’s bones ablaze!

Elizabeth watched in horrified fascination as the image of Ellicott began to decay until nothing was left but ash.

 

* * *

 

 

*“Thanks guys,” Kat said as they went their separate ways.

*“No more haunted asylums, okay?” Dean said jokingly.

Eventually, the group split, leaving the family to take care of it’s business. *“Hey, Dean,” Sam called, looking contrite. “I’m sorry man. To both of you. I said some awful things back there.”

Elizabeth nodded. “So it let you remember? That’s pretty rare.”

*“Yeah,” Sam said, looking away in shame. “It’s like I couldn’t control it, but I didn’t mean it.”

*“Ya didn’t, huh,” Dean asked, looking at him carefully.

*“No, of course not!” The three were silent for a while. “Do we need to talk about this?” Sam asked, looking at the two who quickly turned away.

*“Naw,” Dean said. “I’m not really in the sharing and caring kind of mood.” He threw his bag in the back. “I just wanna get some sleep.”

“Dad’s right,” Elizabeth said, climbing into the back of the car. “No more chick flick moments today, m’kay?”


	8. In Which Elizabeth Makes The Decision That Her Biological Grandfather Deserved His Time In Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry. So incredibly sorry. Have I mentioned I was sorry?   
> On the one hand, I've been really busy lately. I was having to work to keep my family above water, my grades slipped, and my mom and I only RECENTLY had a come to Jesus about my medication, which has been causing me a lot of health problems. On the other hand, this chapter did NOT want to be written, Elizabeth wanted to go on vacation. Lucifer wanted to go fuck around, and Dean wanted to have alone time with Cas. Honestly, it's REALLY hard doing this work because I wrote this with the intention of season three and four, of Cas and Luce, who aren't even a twinkle in the eyes of the writers at the point I'm writing right now. While I absolutely love the Monster-Of-The-Week feel of Season one IT IS INTERFERING WITH MY NEED FOR LUCETH FEELS. So here's a new chapter with so many apologies, another one should be coming out soon that should end off this particular episode, and hopefully we'll be finished with season 1 soon and can get into season two.  
> Also, once again, anything with a * above it is a direct quote from the show itself. This particular episode was written by John Shiban.

_Free Will. It’s a staple of our family. Has been for as long as I could possibly remember. Sure, sometimes my more angelic aunts and uncles may cause a fuss over it, but generally, our family is one of an almost anarchy-wrought freedom._

_I used to think it was just the American in us. This obsession with freedom. I heard it from my classmates and friends, how Americans are known for thinking of nothing but their freedoms, the pride they derive from it. But that never seemed to fit my family. It wasn’t pride I saw in their eyes when freedom came up. It was desperation. It was the look of someone who had once never had a choice, and had demanded one eventually. It used to frighten me, this idea of a family with even less freedom than the one I grew up with._

_I never thought to be afraid of being a family with no freedom of choice at all._

* * *

 

                Elizabeth was getting tired of the bickering between her father and uncle. Currently, they were debating whether or not to go after a bunch of disappearances in Indiana, always the same weekend in April. Sam wanted to go after John, but her dad nixed it, saying “He’s given us an order.”

                That left Elizabeth so shell shocked she missed out on the rest of the conversation, staring blankly into the sky. “An order?” That’s suddenly a good enough reason for her dad, who had always encouraged rebellion and free will, was encouraging following orders? No. There was no way. Forget the past, Elizabeth had probably slipped accidentally into a parallel universe where everything was horribly, horribly wrong. There was no way. There couldn’t be any way.

                Right up until she started dating Luce, even after in his own way, her father had always made sure she understood that, even though he and papa were her parents and she was to treat them with respect, she was not a soldier and they were not her generals. She was a child and they were her parents. The second she turned sixteen, her father had made it clear that she never had to take orders from anyone unless she wanted to, even them. Seeing him argue on the side of conformity, on the side of blind obedience, on the side of almost socialistic acceptance, it made a shiver run down her spine.

                Was this why Grandad Bobby hated John so much? Was this why she was never allowed around him for too long? Was her dad afraid she would inevitably be brainwashed as he was when he was her age?

                Elizabeth was pulled from her thoughts as her father slammed the door shut, an action that made her flinch instictivly. Her dad _never_ slammed the door.

                He also never drove off without Uncle Sam.

                “Dad?” she asked, careful of the angry lines she hadn’t seen on her father’s shoulders since he lit Luce on fire. “Daddy?”

                He didn’t respond, and Elizabeth, too afraid of this person so unlike her father, didn’t pry. She simply sat in the back, praying frantically to Grandpa Chuck for an explination as to why this was all happening. As usual these days, she received no answer.

 

* * *

 

  

              Elizabeth wanted out of that town and she wanted out _now._

                Her skin felt like something was moving underneath it. Her grace churned with the need to _burn out_ whatever had tainted this town. Worst of all, a single look at the apple pie advertised around the town made Elizabeth sick to her stomach at the idea of eating it. No one and nothing makes the daughter of Dean Winchester dislike pie. It was sacrilegious. And she had the wings to back that up.

                By the time they got to the gas station, Elizabeth was gleefully considering taking her Uncle Uriel’s approach, and just destroying the entire town in a flaming ball of holy fire disguised as a meteor. Please? Pretty please?

                *“Did the guy have a tattoo?” a girl asked, carrying a box down from some mystical area upstairs. Elizabeth stared at her, taking a great comfort in the soul she could see. It wasn’t as . . . righteous as her father’s, which was a swirling mix of red, gold, white, and grey, but it was innocent, mixing green, blue, and white in jagged edges. It was a soothing balm to the bright yellow and red Elizabeth had seen across the town, signaling willful ignorance and greed. Elizabeth was tempted to rush the girl and hug her, possibly to carry her away from a town that would surely corrupt her. Or kill her.

                *“You remember?” she asked, looking at her grandmother, “They were just married.”

                Ice went down Elizabeth’s spine. No. No. No. No. No. Between the apples, the greed, and the fact that all the victims were couples, Elizabeth suddenly wished more than anything she had thought ahead to grab the angelic knife she got for her birthday from Uncle Michael. There was no way she was going to be able to take down a Vanir by herself. Not without some better tools.

                All of which were in Heaven.

                Fuck.

* * *

 

 

                When her father walked throughout the orchard, Elizabeth followed him, wings stretched out behind her in warning. The sheer feeling of grace would keep the Vanir at bay long enough, but he would eventually descend upon them. When this Grandpa damned Vanir realizes she’s just a Halfling, he’ll make the attempt to devour her and her father just as easily as he attempts with the humans. And without knowing which tree is his, or without a fucking blade, she’s as helpless as any mortal man.

                So while he climbed onto the ladder, investigating the scarecrow before him (and, really? Turning victims into scarecrows? That’s goanna be a thing now?), Elizabeth was threateningly leaving her grace all across the land, making sure to metaphorically puff her chest as much as she could. Thankfully, it seemed this particular Vanir was strictly nocturnal. He’d move about that night though, and Elizabeth was going to need some Holy Oil and an Angelic knife. Which meant going to Heaven, which meant leaving her father alone with these nut jobs.

                As her dad talked to Emily, Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel for the girl. As awful as this place was, it was all the poor thing had.

                *“Well, you know, it’s the boonies. But I love it. I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here, it’s almost like we’re blessed,” Emily said happily, looking almost dream like. Elizabeth recognized it immediately.

                One of the most terrifying parts about Vanir is their almost subtle control of their worshippers, willing or otherwise. It took her family a while to realize it, but it’s there. People under the protection and blessing of Vanir, whether they actually take part in the sacrifices or simply live on the area blessed, tend to have an almost cultish, brainwashed attitude towards the effects of the blessings.

                Emily didn’t deserve to be like that. She deserved better than simply being another part of a wheel made on the corpses of innocent couples. Elizabeth might not be able to save this town, many of them had earned their place on The Rack fair and square, but Emily was innocent. Emily could be saved.

                *“It’s not a couple is it?” her dad asked, breaking Elizabeth’s thought process. “A guy and a girl?”

                Elizabeth didn’t need to look at Emily to know her father was right. The next sacrifices had already been chosen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question I need an answer to, throughout season 2, should Elizabeth be able to communicate with Luce? Or should I save that for season three?


	9. In Which Elizabeth Realizes Maybe Her Dad Wasn't Paranoid After All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeeeyyyyyyy guys. How's it going? I'm great. . . hehe. hehe.
> 
> Ok, I'm really sorry. A lot's been going on, and I haven't had access to certain stuff. But I'm sorry.
> 
> I in class. Here yous go.

                _My father loves me._

_I’ve always understood this. It’s always been something understood by everyone in the family. Dad’s always been this central figure of love and comfort. Papa loves us as well, but Dad loves us with this ferocity and desperation. It’s like he’s always afraid we’re going to slip through his fingers, like we’re not real. I always thought it was odd._

_Now, I look at what little Dad has, and I can’t help but understand. He considers a car (awesome though Baby might be) to be a home. He only has Uncle Sam, John, and Grandad Bobby. No wonder her poor father was always afraid of losing them._

_He’s lost so much already without having anything much to begin with._

 

* * *

 

 

Elizabeth regretted everything involved with abandoning her father while he went looking for the couple, but she _needed_ those weapons. The Holy Oil, at the least. Sure, her father could burn the tree, but, with how long that orchard has been there, the tree’s probably infected others. Kill the first tree now, and the Vanir will just move to one of the others.

                That hardly means anything most of the time, but, at the rate this town’s been feeding this thing, if they think it’s dead, it’ll spread to another town and _take_ sacrifices. Innocent people who in no way brought this down upon themselves.

                Elizabeth _needed_ some holy oil. It wasn’t a question anymore. Between her father, Emily, and this new couple, things were headed further and further south faster than she could keep up. So, with a quick, “I’m going to look around” to Dean, Elizabeth unfurled her two set s of wings and set off towards where she knew some holy oil would be hidden.

                Perhaps she could visit Uncle Sam on the way and try to fix the mess he and her father had created for themselves.

                However, when she got to her uncle, jar of holy oil stashed in something that could only be described as a transdimensional locker, she realized just what a mess she herself had flown into as she watched Sam sitting in a bus station, happily talking to a demon.

                *“I love my parents,” the demon said, looking as sad and lonely as possible when _you’re wearing the probably dead skin of some poor innocent girl_. “And they want what’s best for me. They just didn’t care if I wanted it. I was supposed to be smart. But not smart enough to scare off a husband.” Elizabeth shivered deep in her belly as her uncle smiled, almost as if in understanding. Urgh, this was painful to watch, but there was little Elizabeth could do. There was no way to explain her sudden appearance, and there was certainly no way to explain how she knew who (or in this case _what_ ) was sitting before her uncle. “It’s just . . . because my family said so, I was supposed to do what I was told. So I just went on my own instead.” **_Really?_** This bitch was going to pull something so obvious, so blatant, so . . .

                Holy shit her uncle was falling for it.

                *“No, no,” Elizabeth’s uncle said, looking far too much like a puppy. “It’s okay. I know how you feel. Remember that brother I mentioned before, that I was road-tripping with?” Elizabeth wanted to bash her head into a tree. Really Uncle Sam? Really? You’re just going to leave that information out where anybody can hear it? _Did they not have a fucking problem with the FBI all the fucking time?!_ “It’s, uh, it’s kind of the same deal.”

                Oh, Elizabeth was just going to have to kill Uncle Sam. Ignoring the blatant problems with that (Elizabeth knew damn well that her father had always encouraged her uncle to be the smartest he wanted to be), there was a _huge_ difference. Sure, _if_ this bitch was telling the truth, her parents were assholes – before she probably killed them – but Sam doesn’t have that excuse. Her father has always simply wanted to best for his family. And what’s usually best for the family, at bare minimum, means what keeps them alive. Sam wants to compare a stifling environment to _Dean trying to keep him alive_? Really?

                Elizabeth sighed, shaking her head. She had to go. Her father would be looking for her soon.

 

* * *

 

 

                So, of, course, when she gets to her father, he’s fighting off the fucking scarecrow. “GO!” He bellows at a couple, clutching each other tightly as they run from the Vanir. Elizabeth could _feel_ the hunger radiating off the Pagan god as it ran throughout the orchard, hunting for its prey.

                Angrily, Elizabeth shoved raw Grace at it, slapping it away with a wing. The feel of the Vanir stung her entire wing, making it flinch tightly back into her, but she couldn’t stop. She _needed_ to get her father out of there.

                Suddenly, Elizabeth felt herself flying out into the darkness, unfamiliar hands gripped around her shoulders.

                “ELIZABETH,” Dean cried out, looking around the clearing for his daughter but finding nothing.

                “What was that,” the man asked, still wrapping himself around his wife in fear.

                “You don’t want to know,” Dean said furiously, staring out into the dark as a warning. That was his daughter, and he would be getting her back.

 

* * *

 

 

                “What the hell do you mean you lost Elizabeth,” Sam whispered angrily into the phone as he sat up in the bus station.

                “I mean,” Dean growled, “We were running for our lives, and it snatched her into the fucking forest like she was a god damn extra in a fucking horror movie!”

                Sam sighed. “Calm down,” he said. “This thing only eats couples right? Odds are, it won’t kill her since there is nothing to balance it out.” Sam stroaked his chin. “Sounds like it needs both. Possibly a yin and yang thing. Either way, Elizabeth will be fine as long as you kill it in time.”

                Dean growled into the phone again, but sighed heavily. “It’s a god.” He said “Probably pagan by the killings.”

                *“What makes you say that?” Sam asked, curious how his not-so-book-savy could have drawn that conclusion. Then again, Dean was always able to apply himself where hunting was concerned.

                *“The annual cycle of its killings?” Dean said, as if it should have been obvious. And the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman, like you said. But not exactly. It’s probably some kind of fertility right. And you should see the locals. The way they treated this couple. Fattening them up like a Christmas turkey.” He shivered, remembering the almost disturbing smiles on the local faces as they fed the very people they’re going to let die for them.

                *“The last meal. Given to sacrificial victims,” Sam said, understanding.

                “Not just a last meal. A last meal of the very fruits they’re going to help fertilize with their blood.”

 

 


	10. In Which Elizabeth Finally Gets To See One Of Her Uncles But Recieves No Answers Because Of Course Not That Would Be Too Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Hi! I love you all. Please don't kill me?
> 
> Look, I'm really sorry that this is so late. I got engaged, then found out my fiancee was koo koo for coco puffs and a little manipulative, my current boyfriend, best friend and I opened up a new business and that's been a bitch to deal with. To put it bluntly, I haven't even had time to read any Supernatural fanfiction, let alone write my own.
> 
> But, no matte how long it may take me, I promise you, I will not abandon this without telling anyone. So here you go, the ending to Scarecrow

_I miss my family. I know, I've been here forever, but I still miss everyone. I miss my uncles, my siblings. . . my Luce. Having Dad around staves off my missing Papa, but I still always feel like something's missing. A lot of somethings. I feel like I'm part of this huge puzzle with tones of pieces, but we don't even have the frame finished with just Dad, Uncle Sam and me._

_I would kill to see Luce again. Knowing he's down there, rotting and suffering while I sit up here useless just . . . I try not to think about it too often._

 

* * *

 

 

So, of course, Elizabeth’s father got himself trapped. Probably fooled by a member of the town pretending to help him research. Urgh, this is what happens when her family splits up! This is why they don’t get to have nice things!

“Your father is a strong warrior young Nephilim,” The Vanir whispered in her ear. After it had realized she wasn’t a full angel, and thereby was incapable of raining the wrath of heaven down upon it, the Vanir had snatched her into the darkness, binding her Grace and allowing her to watch any part of the town she wanted as a sick joke. _“See how little they care of what they are doing,”_ it whispered at her. _“See how desperate they are to give in to their own temptations.”_

“And you still think you can win?” Elizabeth growled, black and red hair spilling in front of her face. “This isn’t going to hold me forever Vanir,” she warned angrily. “You and I both know that. The juice these mortals keep pumping into won’t keep you afloat for too much longer. You’ll be needing better sacrifices soon.”

She could feel the thing smirking against her skin. “And what sacrifice could make me more powerful than a high ranking angel of heaven and their lover, The Righteous Warrior?”

Elizabeth froze in place. “You’re full of shit,” she growled, struggling in the magical binds that held her. There was no way this thing could have known who her Papa was. He couldn’t even have been that high-ranking of an angel yet. He wasn’t given the title Arch until _after_ she’d been born. Hadn’t he? Elizabeth was starting to realize that perhaps she didn’t know her family as well as she thought she did after all.

Her eyes were drawn to the image of her father, slowly waking up as the members of the town argued amongst themselves. Oh, they were so put upon, having to stay at home and shut their eyes and ears like the selfish cowards they were. And the family from the gas station, oh! Oh, the weight on their shoulders, showing the victims the way to the orchard. They were suffering so much for the _greater good._

Elizabeth thought she was going to be sick.

Then, out of the corner of the image, Elizabeth saw them dragging Emily into the cellar and throwing her next to her father.

Elizabeth definitely felt sick now.

“You see?” the Vanir hissed into her ear. “Their own niece, she whom they were meant to protect, one of the sole innocents in this town, but they will throw her on my roots like garbage happily to appease me, gleefully to gain my approval, my love.”

Elizabeth snapped her wings angrily at the creature, trying to frighten it away from her. “My father _will_ get out of this,” Elizabeth warned, something cold and bitter rising from her Grace. “There _will_ be consequences for your actions Iounn.”

Suddenly, the creature froze, recognizing the old name. “Well chosen child,” she whispered, the illusion of a scarecrow melting away to a beautiful woman with bright, glowing blue eyes and long, flowing hair made of gold. “It seems your angelic family taught you well. I am Iounn, keeper of the Orchards of Eternity.” She took a few steps forward, smirking. “And you should understand your position child.”

Elizabeth didn’t reply. Uncle Gabe had told her about Iounn. She was one of what he called “Vasir”. Not to be confused with the Aesir pantheon he was involved with as Loki. Apparently, there were several powerful witches and wizards in the past who had somehow managed to make themselves into something more than themselves. Something akin to the gods the others worshipped, usually by mimicking the magick that those gods used to keep themselves alive on the prayers of their followers. Iounn apparently tricked herself into the pantheon early on, convincing town after town to dedicate their orchards to her and give her sacrifices that would sustain her in the absence of continuous prayers. Gabe had always wondered where she’d run off to after “the incident” happened. What “the incident” was, Elizabeth never knew.

“Understand my position?” Elizabeth scoffed, suddenly feeling much _better_ about her situation. “You’re a glorified leech, feeding off of this town like the parasitic scum you are. Look at yourself. You can barely keep that form, can you?”

The image of a beautiful woman shimmered and Iounn snarled angrily. “Watch yourself child,” she growled, chains tightening around Elizabeth painfully. “I still have enough power to chain you, and when your precious angelic mother comes down to find you and dies with your father, I’ll have enough power to start spreading my influence again.”

Elizabeth smirked, despite the pain in her wings. “You? Kill either of my fathers? My, aren’t we an uppity little _witch_?”

Suddenly, the round, pleasant face of an angel was replaced with the shallow, wrinkled visage of a monster. “ _I AM A GODDESS YOU FOOLISH CHILD!”_ The creature was directly in her face now, grabbing her by the chin and tightening the chains in her hand even tighter. _“I WAS PART OF A PANTHEON YOU WILL NEVER EVEN BE WORTHY ENOUGH TO MEET!”_

Elizabeth bit down on her screams, forcing herself to smile through the pain. “Really? Because that’s not how I heard it. Last I heard, you were just a common witch playing at being a Goddess. Even Loki had—”

Iounn cut Elizabeth off with a wrathful screech as she began slicing at Elizabeth, stripping the skin off of her with claw-like fingers. Blood and Grace dripped from each of her wounds, and Elizabeth took it quietly, watching the pool as her father and Emily were abandoned in the orchard, tied ceremoniously to a supposedly random tree. Elizabeth could feel her Uncle Sam’s soul making his way towards them. Elizabeth just had to hold on long enough.

 

* * *

 

 

Holding on sound a lot easier when one isn’t strung up like a Christmas turkey being carved like on as well.

“Damn,” Elizabeth said, panting heavily as her wounds continued to close up, the pain receding but still there, scaring over before disappearing completely. The Nephilim had never been happier to have advanced healing. “What the hell did Loki do? Give you a bad perm?”

That, apparently, was the wrong answer, as Elizabeth was rewarded with a slap to the face accompanied by nails to the cheek, blood and Grace oozing from the wound and remaining on her skin even after her wounds had healed.

“That worthless wannabe,” Iounn raged. “He mocked me for making my way into the pantheon—”

Elizabeth had to interrupt, “Actually, you never made it into the pantheon technically—”

“—But I knew the _truth_ about him.” Iounn continued, pretending she hadn’t heard the younger woman. “He was even more of a liar than I was. He was no God. He was merely—”

“Now, now, Iounn, darling, do you honestly want to dreg up such awful memories with my sweet niece?”

Both women turned to see a short, brunette man chewing on a peppermint, smirking smugly at Iounn.

Though it was a question of who looked more furious at his presence, Iounn or Elizabeth.

“Loki,” Iounn snarled like a rabid animal. “Here for you precious niece I assume, well, you’re—”

She was cut off by a _very_ irate Elizabeth. “GABRIEL NOVAK-WINCHESTER YOU ARE IN SO MANY LEVELS OF TROUBLE I HAVE NO IDEA IF THERE IS A PHYSICAL, WRITTEN NUMBER TO DESCRIBE IT!” Elizabeth was tugging against her chains angrily, teeth bared as if she was ready to rip out Gabriel’s throat. With her teeth.

Gabriel, looking appropriately sheepish, tried to push a strained smile. “Come on now sweetie,” he said, trying to sooth the savage Nephilim. “No need to be too upset, I’m here now aren’t I?”

Elizabeth was not one to be mollified however. “I HAVE BEEN PRAYING TO YOU AND GRANDPA FOR WEEKS YOU SUGAR BRAINED TODDLER! WEEKS! COULD YOU HAVE POSSIBLY EVEN PRETENDED TO ANSWER? SURE! IT’S NOT THAT HARD! BUT NOOOOOOOOO PIKACHU KNOWS EVERYTHING!”

Both “Gods” looked at Elizabeth like she was insane.

“What?” she asked, confused, before realization dawned on her, “Oh no, don’t tell me Gabriel Iglesias isn’t famous in this time yet!”

While Iounn continued just staring at Elizabeth crazily, Gabriel began laughing hysterically. “Oh my Father,” he gasped, trying to breathe through the laughter. “The guy with the dounuts? He gets famous?”

Elizabeth, remembering that she _is very upset with her absentee uncle_. Frowns at him and says, “I don’t know. Maybe if you had _answered me_ , I would be more inclined to tell you.”

Gabriel smirked **..::Well, little one, I did. You were very displeased at the time::..**

Elizabeth was silent, and, had she not been trapped in chains, she would have slammed her head into her palm. **..::You were the one who visited.::..** She realized **..::You realize I would have taken the time to talk to you _if you had announced yourself by name like a normal person!_ ::..**

Gabriel laughed, knocking an irate Iounn out of the way. **..::There, there, my dear niece. I hear you when you call. Now sleep, your soul is weary.::..**

Before Elizabeth could say anything, she slipped into a sleep, hearing Iounn screeching angrily in the darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

Elizabeth wakes up the next morning to her father shaking her while crying her name. “Elizabeth, honey, come on. I need you to open your eyes for me, okay?”

Tired, Elizabeth looked up, realizing her head was killing her. “Dad?” She asked, leaning up. “Ugh, my head.”

Looking down at herself, Elizabeth saw that her uncle Gabe must have cleaned her up before dropping her off, as it looked as if Elizabeth had only been dragged through the woods, not tortured by a crazy fake Goddess for several hours.

“What happened?” She asked, confused. “I remember running through the night and . . .”

“You got snatched,” Dean growled in explanation, obviously still upset about his daughter’s disappearance. “Luckily you were the only one.”

Sam nodded behind him, bringing Elizabeth’s attention to the now burning tree behind them. “Seems like the Vanir had to take both the man and the woman at the same time. Since it only took you, looks like it dropped you off when it got what it wanted.”

Elizabeth, not wanting to explain that, no, she was actually saved by her uncle’s future husband who was an Archangel/Norse God, and had a grudge against a fake god who kidnapped her to lure in her father and his future husband.

Yeah, best to let dead dogs lie.

“Let’s get out of here,” Elizabeth said, rubbing the back of her neck where she could feel the cold sensation of Luce’s residual Grace comforting her aches. Even if the angel himself wasn’t around, looks like he planned on looking after her anyways.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, helping his daughter up, “Let’s go home.”


	11. Chapter 11

[I maded a family tree](http://layla256.tumblr.com/post/149372080347/heres-the-family-tree-someone-asked-for-for-the)

Also, If anyone wants a concise timeline of the family growing, just tell me and I'll work on it. Sorry [Cat (ActualBuckyBarnes)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualBuckyBarnes/pseuds/Cat) that it took so long.


	12. In Which We Find Elizabeth is Much Like Her Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm completely dedicating this chapter to the wonderful reviewers of the last chapter. All of you really got be back into the mood to start up this story again. I thought I'd lost my passion for Supernatural and was going to put this story on an almost indefinite hiatus, but you guys got my ass in gear and lit a fire in my writing loins!
> 
> Mostly, I'm giving credit to Ziahhana and Leonides. You guys have been absolute angels of inspiration! And yes, Leonides, the flashback in this chapter and the rest of the flashbacks in this episode are just for your beautiful self!
> 
> Also, I had I think three people asking me about Gabriel knowing about Elizabeth, so I went ahead and answered that in this chapter briefly. I love you guys so much.

                _I honestly think I’m finally settling in. Sure, I still miss Dad and Papa and everyone else, but . . . maybe it’s time for me to be happy with the family I have instead of the family I’m not going to be able to have for decades._

 _I haven’t been able to find a reason to go see Granddad Bobby, but I’m sure I can find one eventually. Finally found Aunt Meg! Turns out she was the blond demon Uncle Sam was talking to during the whole Iounn incident. It’s nice to know she’s doing okay. She and Dad may have a strained relationship (since Aunt Meg drunkenly confessed her love for Papa but we as a family try_ extreamely _hard not to talk about that incident), but she’s always been pretty cool with me. Mostly because I apparently keep Luce on a “leash”. Not that he’d ever admit it._

_I also found Tante Jo and Granny Ellen. They’re doing alright. Aunt Jo’s **uber** young right now. It’s actually kind of creepy. I’m so used to a middle-aged woman yelling French around the house and occasionally complaining about “those filthy Americans” as a joke. This Jo . . . she hasn’t even been to France!_

_I’ve also been checking in on Sheriff Stilinski, the guy John is actually named after. He’s doing just fine. Him and Mrs. Claudia got married not too long ago in this time. I’ll have to keep a close eye on them. Ms. Melissa just had Scott, but she’s still with her ass husband. I’ve put a tiny spell on the stairs to trip him every time he goes down them. It probably won’t actually hurt the bastard, but it’ll be a bit of a laugh for me._

_Theoretically, there are some other people I could drop in on, but I’m trying to limit my flying time. The angels in heaven can’t find me because they’ve got no idea how to trace the signature of a Nephilim like me, but that doesn’t mean I should tempt fate._

 

* * *

 

 

Elizabeth scowled furiously, fingers twitching over the trigger of her shotgun, which had been enchanted to _murder_. She _hated_ rawheads completely and was ripped, roaring, and reading to wreck. She hadn’t seen many in her lifetime. After the incident with her, Mary, and J.J., the family had tended to keep back from allowing them in any hunts involving them.

 

* * *

 

 

_Elizabeth didn’t appreciate being left home alone. Sure, she wasn’t **alone**. She had her little, newborn sister Mary, who had only just started sitting up for herself, and her cousin JJ, who was five days older than her. Not that the stupid bug would let her forget it. She also had her Grandpa John. He didn’t come around often. She’d heard her Papa say earlier that it was ‘his last chance’, but she didn’t know that was about. It seems like Uncle John is always in trouble. Maybe he does bad things like Uncle Crowley. Although everyone just seems to be. . . bothered by Uncle Crowley. They seemed MAD at Grandpa John. Sometimes her Daddy didn’t even call him Dad!_

_But it was fine, ‘cause Uncle Crowley had given Elizabeth a special gun. A **really really** old one. He said, “If you shoot it with this, squirlette, it **will** die. So be very careful with it. But use it if you need to.”_

_Uncle Crowley was probably not supposed to give it to Elizabeth, since he didn’t give it to Daddy or Papa first, so Elizabeth had been careful not to show it to anyone. She didn’t want to get Uncle Crowley in trouble like she did when she set Mrs. Eddary’s hair on fire. Something about the straw that broke the horse’s back. Not that Elizabeth knew what on earth they were talking about._

_But none of that was the point! The point was, Elizabeth had been left alone while Daddy and Papa went out to dinner! Without her! They said it was ‘Grown-Up Night’. Well, so what? She was six, she was a big girl!_

_Elizabeth sighed, going to get some milk from the kitchen since she was thirsty, tiny Mary swaddled carefully in her arms. Most six year olds would have had a hard time with the baby, but Elizabeth had paid very close attention when Grandpa Chuck had taught her how to swaddle the younger Nephilim in her own grace to ensure she wouldn’t fall while Elizabeth was holding her. He said she shouldn’t use it too often._

_She was having to use it a lot lately though. J.J. was feeling **really** bad. He’d come down with a cold not too long ago and Uncle Sam was telling everyone not to heal him ‘cause he needed to build up an immenity. Elizabeth was pretty sure she’d gotten the word wrong, but she got the gist. She had her Daddy’s smarts._

_When Grandpa John had come over, they’d told her that he was supposed to be taking care of them, but, instead, he’d gotten really mad when Mary had started crying ‘cause she missed Papa’s comforting Grace. Eventually, he’d handed Mary to Elizabeth and told her, “I need you to take your sister now.”_

_Elizabeth hadn’t thought much of the sentence. Daddy handed Mary to Elizabeth all the time, sometimes to play with her, or hold her when she needed feeding, or when he needed an extra set of hands for when Mary made a **really really** bad diaper. So it wasn’t a big deal that John had given Mary to Elizabeth._

_But then he’d grabbed the not-apple-juice from the Adult-Only cabinet and started drinking it. Elizabeth watched as the drink disappeared more and more, and realized, as Grandpa John began murmuring to himself, that he hadn’t meant ‘take your sister for a few minutes’. She was supposed to take care of her sister period._

_Elizabeth could have cried. She could have called Daddy and Papa. She could have called anyone, but she didn’t. Daddy and Papa hadn’t been able to have a lot of time for each other since Mary had come along. Elizabeth was, thankfully, not one of those children who became selfish with her parent’s time. Uncle Michael and Uncle Uriel had pulled her aside and talked to her about how special she, J.J. and Mary were, and how babies needed lots of love and care and she was gonna have to be a good, big girl for Daddy and Papa because being a parent is really hard work. She’d nodded in understanding. Her parents and sister needed her, so she would rise to the call._

_Hence she had simply microwaved the chicken noodle soup incredibly and strained the broth for J.J., and silently thanked Uncle Gabriel for putting special stickers on the clock for when Marry was supposed to be fed. She would hide the bottle when Grandpa John fell asleep and would say nothing. Daddy and Papa would be so happy to have more regular nights out that maybe Elizabeth could get another little sister when Mary was older. Mary wasn’t all that bad, so Elizabeth could stand to have another._

_As Elizabeth poured the milk into her Elsa cup (she couldn’t find the top to it to avoid spilling, but she could be careful) with her shaking hands, she kept a close eye on Mary, whom she had cradled in one of her black wings. Her red wings were still too tiny to hold her younger sister._

_Suddenly, Elizabeth heard a growling sound from below the sink._

_The milk fell from her hands, but Elizabeth wasn’t worried about it anymore. She brought her sister to her left arm and wrapped her wings around the baby, shielding it from whatever had come into the house. Her right hand went to the special gun Uncle Crowley had given to her, pulling it out from the big pocket of her Batman pj pants._

_“Grandpa!” Elizabeth called, not taking her eyes off the sink. “Grandpa! Monster!” It was what her Daddy and Papa had taught her to say in case anything got into the house. Usually, the lingering Grace of so many angels kept things away, but, in case something came in, she was to call for the nearest adult and say as much of what she thought it was as possible._

_Had it been Daddy or Papa or Luce, the door would have been off its hinges and whatever was in the cabinet would have been tiny pieces scattered across the room. Elizabeth waited for Uncle John to come in, guns blazing. He didn’t._

_“Grandpa!” She called again, seeing something furry with claws climbing out from under the sink, dripping wet and smiling at her terror. “Grandpa! Boogyman!”_

_“Just shoot it Dean,” Elizabeth heard him grunt before she realized she was so focused on the milk and monster, she hadn’t heard the snores of the older man._

_Elizabeth heard the monster chuckle, and took two steps back. This thing was really, really scary. It was big, clawed, and reaching out._

_Reaching, not for Elizabeth, but for Mary._

_That shot Elizabeth into action. Taking aim just like Granny Ellen and Tante Jo had taught her, Elizabeth fired a shot, getting the monster right in the shoulder. She’s missed her mark because her hands had been shaking, but, for some reason, it had fallen anyways. An electric glow pulsed through it and Elizabeth watched in shock as it fell._

_Suddenly, the sound was back in the world. She could hear Mary crying, probably upset over both the monster and sudden loud noise. She heard Grandpa John still sleeping soundly after grunting “Good job Dean. Now put Sammy to bed.” She even heard J.J. upstairs, croaking out her name and asking what was going on._

* * *

 

                Elizabeth shook herself out of the memory. She’d been trying hard not to think too much about her past. Getting used to this new Dad and Uncle Sam was hard enough. She didn’t have to keep reminding herself of the differences.

                Hell, she was still reeling from this Uncle Gabriel. From the short talk they’d had, Elizabeth had realized Uncle Gabe probably had no idea who her other father really was. It made sense, Elizabeth supposed. She’s made with the grace of an arch angel who technically isn’t an arch angel yet. He probably thinks she’s Uncle Michael’s daughter. Or Uncle Raphael’s.

                Elizabeth shivered at the thought.

                It was so odd, having to keep herself wrapped too tightly around herself with no one else wrapped around her. She hadn’t spoken to Uncle Gabriel since, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. There seemed to be something broken about this Uncle Gabriel. Whereas her father had simply become harder, Uncle Gabriel had become . . . cruel. Not towards the undeserving. She had started keeping up with his antics now that she had a general feel for how he was right then, and what she saw was disturbing. Her uncle had always been a firm believer in an eye for an eye, but, in this time, it seems he’s taking an arm and a leg instead.

                But those were all thoughts for later. Elizabeth needed to focus on the job at hand. She had years to worry about any of this. Decades.

                And as she thought that, the rawhead comes out of fucking nowhere and grabs her Uncle Sam.

                “Elizabeth,” her father called, aiming at the rawhead with the taser. “The kids!”

                Thinking on her feet, Elizabeth grabbed one kid in each arm and leapt up the stairs three at a time. Her wings twitched to wrap around them, but Elizabeth stopped herself. Even if the kids would never know, there was still something wrong with the idea of having her wings around strangers. Once she was outside, Elizabeth put her hands on each of the children’s shoulders.

                “Are you alright?” Elizabeth asked, looking from one to the other carefully. She wasn’t overly worried about her father or uncle; they could take care of themselves. “Any scratches, hurt ankles?”

                Both kids shook their heads. Elizabeth noticed the tight grip the younger brother had on his older sister’s hand. “Hey,” she said, smiling gently. “It’s alright. My family and I are gonna get you home safe, ok? We’re going to get you back to your parents, but I need you two to be strong for each other for just a bit longer, ok?”

                They both nodded their heads before surprising Elizabeth with tight hugs. Surprised, it took Elizabeth a moment before sinking into the feeling. They weren’t Novak-Winchester hugs, but she’d take them happily.

                Then her Grace flared angrily, her wings twitched in fright, and her eyes widened as she turned on her heel, staring terrified at the doorway she’d just ran out of.

                “Dad?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys have any questions about Elizabeth, her family, or anything else about the story, feel free to ask! I'm Layla256 on tumblr! Or you can comment here!


	13. In Which Elizabeth Questions Mortality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm back! Sorry it took me so long. Bronchitis is a bitch. Anyway, I'm not really sure when I'll be updating again, but my brain is kind of dead right now so, small things.
> 
> 1.) I have a point in this chapter I really wanted to make LITTLE KIDS DO NOT HAVE TO BE ADULTS, THAT'S NOT THEIR FUCKING JOB. If your five year old not only knows how to change a diaper at the age of five, but has to on a regular basis because you've not home, are drunk, or anything like that, then you're screwing up somewhere as a parent. I get that single parents have it especially tough, and, as a college student, I get that the economy is in the shitter right now, but that is no excuse for you child having to be an adult.
> 
> 2.) Blood isn't gold, it's silver. Or bronze. Just because you are blood related to somebody doesn't mean that you owe them anything. This is a problem that I'm struggling with myself. You have to ask yourself "How much am I willing to take?" Sometimes, it's not your own suffering that can be the breaking point, but it's best to deal with a situation between you and an aggressive family member before it comes to that point. In this, I'm talking strictly personal arguments. If there's actual abuse involved, or if you think there might be, 800-799-7233 is the number for a hotline. Talk to them. Don't let this family member become your John Winchester.
> 
> And, with those solemn notes, I do bid you adue.

_My dad is strong. He’s always been strong and he always will be. We don’t age anymore, we don’t die. Everything we need it right here on this plane of existence. It’s perfect._

_This dad is . . . not weak, but not invincible. I remember when I was a child and I felt like nothing could ever be stronger than any of my family members. At the time, I was right. I grew up worrying about lost limbs that would take days to grow back or scars that may or may not ever fade. Death has never really been something I’ve ever been afraid of._

_After all, he’s the best Grandfather a girl could ask for._

_But I can’t even talk to him here. I know I can’t reason with the reapers myself and . . . I don’t know what I would ever do if anything happened to Dad or Uncle Sam. To any of them really. IT’s like for the first time in my life I’m seeing my family as human beings, frail and fragile, able to break at any moment._

_Is this how Papa felt when he first met Dad? Is this how Luce felt whenever he had to save me from monsters both supernatural and otherwise as a child?_

_Is this how I’m going to feel for the rest of my life?_

 

* * *

 

_“Lizzie,” JJ asked, his small voice rough with pain and misuse. “Lizzie, what happened?”_

_Elizabeth didn’t answer, shaking as she laid down in the bed next to her cousin, her sister still cradled, wailing in her arms. The gun clanked as it shook in her trembling hands. Still not answering her frantic, panicked cousin, Elizabeth wrapped her wings around all of them, encasing them in her Grace._

_There they stayed for what seemed like hours, all of them frighteningly shaking. Elizabeth didn’t know what to do. ‘Find the nearest adult’ had never come with a ‘but if the nearest adult can’t help’. She didn’t know how to handle this; she didn’t know what to do. They were special, she had to be strong, but what’s strong here?_

_“Elizabeth,” a voice said from outside the encasement her wings had made. “Elizabeth, open up.” No, she couldn’t. What if it was another monster? Uncle Crowley hadn’t shown her how to reload this gun! “OL LML!” Elizabeth felt familiar hands on her wings and lifted them to see Lucifer’s face above them, worry etched in the lines around his eyes and mouth. Clutching Mary and JJ to her chest, Elizabeth began crying hysterically._

_“Luce,” she sobbed, slackening her hold on Mary as Luce pulled her smaller form to him, warping his cold, black wings around her. “Luce, downstairs—”_

_“I saw,” Lucifer said, running a hand through her hair. “You did well, Elizabeth. You did so well. Be very proud of yourself.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“You should be proud of yourselves,” the officer said, pulling Elizabeth out of her own head and memories and into the present. The present where her father was fighting for his life. “You saved those kids’ lives.” He looked at Elizabeth, who had clearly checked out of the conversation before it had started. “I’m sorry about your brother. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” With that, he walked away, leaving Sam and Elizabeth with the doctor who walked over to them.

“How is he?” Elizabeth asked anxiously. Healing was far from her strong point (that was Mary’s area of expertise), but she could probably patch anything wrong with him up as long as it wasn’t life-threatening.

“He’s resting,” the Doctor replied, still looking solemn and putting Elizabeth on edge.

“Then why do you look like he’s not going to be waking up,” Elizabeth snapped, not having the patience for medical games.

*“The electrocution triggered a heart attack,” the doctor admitted, looking grim and fatalistic. “Pretty massive, I’m afraid. His heart . . .it’s been damaged.”

Elizabeth felt her world caving beneath her feet. Damaged heart. She couldn’t fix that. That shit was fatal and delicate and _she couldn’t fix that._ What was she supposed to do? She could try and time jump again, but that would just give her another nose bleed, so no point. She could send a message to the future somehow but then Mary would just be stuck in this time with her and . . . her sister was a bit too sensitive to handle their father the way he was at the moment. She could summon one of the other angels, drag them down to earth by their Grace if she had to, but they were probably hiding for a reason, and it looked like Zacariah was in charge for some reason. No dice. Grandpa Chuck _still_ wasn’t answering her what so fucking ever.

Sam walked away, looking dejected and upset, not even noticing that Elizabeth had been in her own world, not paying attention.

“I’ve seen that look,” the doctor said knowingly. Elizabeth could feel the pity and regret leeching out of his mind and it made her want to vomit. Winchesters don’t need pity. Especially her father _who was going to be fine._ “You’re thinking of everything. Every family member you can ask to donate, every doctor you can consult, every treatment you’ve seen flash across the TV, even those ridiculous herbal remedies that you know don’t do a thing, but you’re willing to try anyways.” He put his hand on her shoulder and she wanted to throw it off angrily. “There’s nothing you or I can do now, I’m sorry. The most you can do is just enjoy the time you have with your brother now, before . . .”

At that, Elizabeth did throw his hand off her shoulder none too gently. “He’ll be fine,” she swore, knowing that the doctor couldn’t feel the Grace around her lashing out at everything in sight, which, luckily, was nothing but a few wandering ghosts. “He’s a fighter.”

The doctor sighed, as if _he_ was the one with a right to be flustered right now. “I’m sorry ma’am, but that’s just not possible. We’re doctors, not miracle workers.”

Elizabeth growled angrily at the man, forgetting that such a sound usually isn’t possible with strictly human vocal cords. “We are.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Luce stayed with Elizabeth and the others until Sam, Dean, Gabriel, and Castiel all came home that night._

_Seeing his father passed out on the couch, an obvious liquor bottle just beneath his fingertips, Dean snarled furiously. “Your last chance old man, and you just **had** to screw it up, didn’t you?” Before he could bother waking the older Winchester, he was distracted by his husband’s cry from the kitchen. “Elizabeth! Elizabeth are you alright!” Without bothering to explain, Castiel ran from the kitchen upstairs, leaving Dean and the others to wander into the room . . ._

_Where a Rawhead was lying dead. From what Dean couldn’t tell, and it really didn’t matter right now._

_“John!” Gabriel called out, his eyes wide with panic as he followed his brother up the stairs to his son’s room, his own husband and brother-in-law both trailing right behind him. “Johnny!”_

_Once they got to the room, every adult breathed a sigh of relief. Lucifer had every child wrapped in his Grace, and Dean could see the top of his eldest’s head under the fallen angel’s chin. Lucifer opened his wings to show that Elizabeth had both of the other children wrapped firmly in her own. Mary was sleeping soundly, probably comforted by the familiar sensation and completely oblivious to her fathers’ panic. J.J., however, was reaching over the wing for his own parents, still not understanding what all that noise was and why Lizzie was crying._

_Gabriel reached for his son, and Sam lifted him right over the wings, which left no resistance now that the adults were home. Craddling their son between them, Gabriel and Sam, clutched to their family like they would be torn away at any moment._

_Castiel took the sleeping Mary from Elizabeth’s arms, but when Dean tried to take Elizabeth herself, she flinched and buried herself into Luce’s chest. Seeing the hurt look on the father, Luce figured he should explain, lest his little Nephilim become more upset._

_“She’s been like this for about three or four hours now. Finally stopped crying, but she hasn’t said a word except about the **thing** downstairs.” Reaching between himself and Elizabeth, the former arch angel pulled the colt from her slack hands and passed it over to Dean. “Looks like we owe Crowley a thank you.”_

_Dean stared at the gun in his hands in horror. Check the chamber, he saw that one bullet was missing, and, suddenly, it all fell into place. Elizabeth had been the one to shoot the Rawhead. His tiny, six-year-old daughter had shot and killed a monster to protect the other children. Because his father was drunk._

_Dean was going to kill him._

_“Lizzie,” Dean said carefully, making sure his voice was calm and even. Elizabeth was a good kid, better behaved than most, but that came with the issue of her never really dealing with angry adults well. Especially if it was her parents. He had to make sure she didn’t think his anger at his father was directed at her. “Lizzie, sweetie, did you kill the thing downstairs?”_

_Elizabeth froze and stiffened, clearly waiting for a reprimand. “G-Grandpa John said to shoot it,” she whimpered. “I-I know I’m not supposed to fire in the house, a-and I-I k-know I have to look for an a-adult if there’s a monster, b-but-” Elizabeth’s voice became tighter and higher with every word, her breath short and quick as she felt the beginnings of another crying fit._

_Dean, seeing exactly what was about to happen, reached into Lucifer’s space, paying no mind to the scowl the angel sent him, and began rubbing his hands up and down his daughter’s back. “No, no honey, it’s ok. You did good. You did very good. No one is mad at you; you did the best you could have done.”_

_Dean was careful not to say he was proud of her. He was, no doubt about it, but he wasn’t going to make his daughter associate killing monsters with her father’s approval. He wasn’t John._

_“You did very good. You took care of J.J. and Mary, and we’re all very proud of you for looking after them like that.”_

_Castiel joined in, kneeling next to his husband and looking his daughter right in her eyes. “My darling, it’s alright. You did exactly what a big sister needed to do. You did everything right.” He ran his fingers through her long, tangled black hair. She’d been having problems brushing it herself, and Castiel wasn’t surprised that not only had John not brushed it before bedtime, as per his instructions, but Lucifer hadn’t bothered in the panic._

_“B-But you’re all so angry,” Elizabeth said, pointing to seemingly nothing. “What did I do wrong?”_

_Castiel sighed. It seemed his daughter was beginning to manifest her powers, which meant training would eventually need to be done. However, that was for another time. “We are angry because you should not have **needed** to do everything tonight. When you are a big girl like your Tante Jo, doing everything by yourself is fine, but you’re still our little darling, which means that an adult should have been here to do it in your stead. That is what has angered us, not you.”_

_Elizabeth sniffled looking up finally at her fathers’ faces. “Is Grandpa John in trouble?” she asked quietly, reaching out for Dean, who took her into his arms happily._

_“So much trouble,” Dean said, stroaking his daughter’s tangled mane. “But that isn’t your fault. Remember what Papa just said about adults having to do things for you, even if you can do it by yourself?” Elizabeth nodded, not really understanding where this was going. “Usually, that would be me or your Papa, even Uncle Sam or Uncle Gabby. Tonight, that was supposed to be Grandpa John, but he didn’t do a good job, and, when you’re a grown up in charge of little kids, you get in trouble if you don’t try.”_

_Elizabeth bolted upright, not wanting to get one of her grandfathers in trouble. “He tried, Daddy! He really did! He just got a really bad headache because Mary was crying and I think he just needed to lie down a little, but-”_

_Lucifer interrupted the little girl, furious at her treatment and the fact that, somehow, John Winchester had managed to convince her that she needed to cover for him. “He got drunk because he couldn’t handle a baby crying and proceeded to mistake Elizabeth and Mary for you and your brother,” he said, nodding to Dean and Sam respectively. “I still have his old rack saved up.”_

_“Lucifer,” Sam snapped, covering his son’s ears. “Now is not the time.”_

_Elizabeth’s head tilted to the side. “Daddy, what’s a rack?”_

  

* * *

 

 

Elizabeth entered the room just as Sam was leaving.

Her father was inside, obviously waiting for her. “It’ll be alright kiddo,” he said, opening and arm for her to crawl next to. “Odds are, I’m probably not really your dad. There’s probably some hocus pocus involved and-”

“Shut up,” Elizabeth growled, trying not to cry. “You’re my dad, no one else. You’re gonna get married, you’re gonna have two snot nosed brats, maybe three, and you’re gonna be happy, all because you’re going to be _fucking fine_. If I have to kill something to make that happen, so be it.”

Dean frowned, not liking where this was going. “Hey, none of that hoo doo voo doo nonsense, alright? Nothing good’s ever come from that and I doubt it’ll start now.”

Elizabeth sighed, knowing there was no way to explain this to her father without some rather difficult revelations. “Dad, I just . . . I promise you’ll be fine, alright?”

Dean smiled down at his daughter, proud of her strength and determination in the face of something as all-encompassing as death. “Maybe kiddo, but don’t get your hopes up. Everyone dies, especially in our line of work. I just-”

Elizabeth slapped her father on the shoulder, looking irritated. “If the words *‘drew the short staw’ come out of your mouth, there will be dire consequences.”

Dean laughed, feeling for all the world better than he had only moments before. “I’m sure kiddo.” A look passed over Elizabeth’s face. She erased it quickly, but Dean saw it before she could. “Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Elizabeth shook her head, trying not to make a fuss. “It’s nothing,” she said, smiling tightly at her father as she tried to hide the ache that came from that familiar name. “I’m not the one who got tased half to death.”

Dean frowned, pulling her closer to him. “Hey, I’m your dad. I’m pretty sure there’s a no lying clause in our contract.”

Elizabeth barked out a humorless laugh. “I don’t remember signing any contract,” she said, the familiar banter bringing tears to her eyes.

“That’s cause you didn’t have to,” he answered plainly, looking smug. “Now, what’s the matter? You don’t like it when I call you kiddo?”

Elizabeth looked to the side. “You never call me that. That’s J.J.’s name.”

Dean smiled knowingly. “J.J., huh. He’s gotta be older than you then. Making you my little sweetie.”

Elizabeth froze, trying not to cry. It’d been so long since her father had called her that, since she’d heard that old nick name come from his voice. Was it only a few weeks ago? He’d said to be careful flying home and that he’d see her that Saturday.

That Saturday was decades away now.

But, as she laid in her father’s arms for the first time in years, she couldn’t really bring herself to mind all that much.


	14. In Which Elizabeth Doesn't Know What to Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeeeyyyyyyyy. So, it's been a while, right guys? Hehehe.
> 
> Ok, Complete honesty, I've got no excuse for this shit. This chapter just fought me and, after learning about about a year away from graduating college, I've just had a lot on my plate. But, hopefully now that I've managed to get this fighter of a chapter out, I SHOULD be able to crank them out a bit better now.
> 
> I threw in a little nsfw lines in there as a thank you for putting up with my never-updating ass.

 

_Every now and then, I’ve no idea what to do. It happens to the best of us, but that’s always what family is for, right?_

_Usually, I’ll go to Papa for an answer, although now, I usually find myself going to Luce for the tiniest things. They’re all gone now though. Sure, Dad and Uncle Sam are still with me but it seems like they’re fumbling their way around as much as I am these days._

_It’s an odd sensation, not being sure where to go or who you can go to. I’m not sure I appreciate it._

* * *

 

Sam’s voice was hard and strained as he spoke into the phone, his face twitching as it couldn’t decide what expression to make. “Hey, Dad. It's Sam. Uh...you probably won't even get this, but, uh...it's Dean.” Elizabeth flinched as she heard the hitch in her uncle’s voice as he said his brother’s name. They both knew the  _reality_  of what was happening, but it was still hard, facing it. “He's sick, and uh...the doctors say there's nothing they can do. Um...but, uh, they don't know the things we know, right? So, don't worry, cause I'm uh...gonna do whatever it takes to get him better. Alright...just wanted you to know.”

As Sam hung up, Elizabeth couldn’t help but add in her opinion. “He’s not gonna call back,” she growled, not bothering to hide her contempt. “That’s got to be the fifth damn phone call you’ve made and he hasn’t responded to a single one. He doesn’t give a shit about Dad.”

Sam’s eyes widened, not really sure how to respond to that. Despite his own aversion to his father, it was rare for him to be in the position of defending him. “Well, Dad cares . . . in his own way.”

Elizabeth held back a growl. “Not fucking enough.” Turning to the side, she looked intently at her Uncle. “You’ve known me less than a year, but tell me you wouldn’t be seeding down whatever road you were on if you heard I was in the hospital.”

Sam was silent, knowing his niece was right. For all that Winchesters adored family more than anything, he was more than a bit disappointed that John wasn’t there for his eldest son, who seemed to always be on his side.

“Exactly,” Elizabeth said. “Besides, we don’t need him. I’ve got a grandfather; his name is Bobby motherfucking Singer.”

Sam snorted. “I can’t decide if the ‘motherfucker’ middle name is accurate or not.”

Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

Confused, Sam made his way to the door, opening it to reveal a smiling Dean, who looked perfectly happy, though terrible. “What the hell are you doing here?” a puzzled Sam asked, looking back at his niece as if she had any answers.

“I checked myself out,” he answered, making his way inside, leaning against every little thing he could reach as he made his way to sit down.

Elizabeth flinched, uncomfortable looking at her father in such an awful state. While she never saw either of her parents as the “mother figure”, Dean Winchester was, without a doubt, the patriarch of the family, taking up the mantel happily. Now, he seemed so . . . weak. She wasn’t really sure how to handle it.

“Dad, are you sure that’s the best idea? Were the doctor’s OK with you just leaving?”

Flopping onto the bed next to his daughter with his head on her shoulder, he shrugged. “Sorry Sweetie, but I’m sure as hell not gonna die in the hospital where there’s not a hot nurse in sight to give me a sponge bath.”

Elizabeth lightly punched her father’s shoulder. “You’re not funny Dad.”

Before Dean could reply, his brother added, “Yeah, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-death thing? It’s crap. We both see right through it.”

Dean snorted, taking the extra effort to not jostle himself too much in fear of aggravating his headache even more. “Whatever dude. Have either of you even slept?” He looked between his daughter and sister, the only family he truly had, and saw how horrible they both looked. Bags under their bloodshot eyes, and his daughter’s entire back was tensed all to hell. “You both look worse that I do. I’m the one on death’s door here, remember.”

“Not funny Dad!”

Sam’s response was a bit more informative. “I’ve been scouring the internet for the last three days. Calling every contact in Dad’s journal.”

Elizabeth nodded. “And I’ve been calling some not in there yet, but some of them are hard to get a hold of.” And, by ‘some of them’, Elizabeth meant, ‘all the ones who could fix this with a snap of their damn fingers’.

“For what?” Dean asked, feigning ignorance. He knew damn well what his family was trying, but he wasn’t quite willing to honestly think it yet.

“For help, Dad. For someone who can fix this.”

Dean shook his head, chuckling darkly. “You two just refuse to let me die in peace, don’t you?”

Elizabeth’s face became hard as stone. “We’re refusing to let you die at all, you chivalrous idiot,” she said.

“One of Dad’s friends, Joshua, called me back this morning,” Sam said, drawing their attention back to him. “Told me about this random guy in Nebraska. A specialist.”

Elizabeth kept that to herself. She had her own opinions about  _The Church of Roy LeGrange_. There was no way. Normal humans don’t have powers like that. Grandpa Chuck wasn’t running around giving anyone anything anymore, but, at this point, she was willing to try anything.

* * *

 

 

Elizabeth left her physical body in the car as they drove onwards, pretending to be asleep as she began flying all around the country, calling out to anyone she could find. She was hardly worried about drawing attention anymore, more worried about her . . . her dying father.

“Dammit Uncle Gabriel!” she screamed, nearly at the breaking point of crying. No one was answering any of her prayers, making her wonder if she’d been cut off from them for some reason. “Somebody answer me!”

But no one came.

Frustrated, Elizabeth flew to a southern part of the Atlantic Ocean and slammed a fist onto the surface of the water. Scrapping the surface and watching as a gigantic wave began making its way away from her.

Quickly, she flew around the wave and slammed into it, punching angrily at the water, dissipating the wave before it could reach anywhere important. She did this multiple times, always making sure to destroy the waves before they managed to do any damage. No reason for her to ruin someone else’s day just because she doesn’t know how to deal with the possible death of her father.

She needed Luce. He was always so much more understanding about everything. He’d know what to do.

 

 

* * *

 

_Elizabeth may or may not have been pouting, floating in the astral plane where her fathers would never think to look for her._

_“You can’t really be **too**  mad at them darling,” a voice cooed behind her as arms wrapped around her midsection. “They’ve every right to be upset. It’s a rare set of parents who approve of their daughter technically dating her uncle.”_

_Elizabeth jumped out of her lover’s arms, not even bothering to pull out her black wings. “No, don’t make excuses for them Luce!” Elizabeth shook with fury. “You and I both know I **never**  looked at you as an Uncle! They’ve got no good reason to be acting like this.”_

_Lucifer looked to the side uncomfortably, not really sure how to explain to his girlfrie—no, that just sounded weird from the Lord of Hell. Lover. Lover would work. He wasn’t sure how to explain to his lover exactly how OK he was._

_“I’m fine Darling,” he said, putting his hands on her arms and pulling her closer to him, glad that she had been able to pull on a white tank top and some purple shorts on before her fathers had broken down the door to their shared hotel room._

_“Fine?! Fine?! **They lit you on fire**!”_

_Lucifer shrugged, not really caring. “It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve tried to kill me.”_

_And it wasn’t until he saw the unadulterated wrath on Elizabeth’s face that he realized that that was certainly not the right thing to say._

_“What the fuck do you mean by that?”_

_Lucifer slowly began backing away, not really sure what to do. “Um . . . nothing nothing tra la la?”_

_The blast of energy that grazed his face alerted him to the fact that this was **also**  not the right thing to say. “ **DON’T YOU DARE BRING DAVID BOWIE INTO THIS!** ”_

_Realizing this had gotten far out of hand, Lucifer flew behind Elizabeth and held his little Nephilim closer to him, binding her to his chest. “Alright Love, I’m sure that’s quite enough.”_

_Elizabeth was having none of that. “Lucifer Morningstar, you let me go right now!”_

_Lucifer figured that would be a bad idea. “Love, it’s alright. I promise.” He cooed affectionately into her ear. “I’m fine, you see? No fire can harm me. They knew that. They’re just upset.”_

_Elizabeth refused to back down. “They had no right! I’m not a little girl anymore. They can’t just light any guy I date on fire!”_

_Lucifer once again chuckled. “Well, my dear, I doubt they thought the second time they ever found out their daughter was dating someone it would be from finding her pulling on her clothes after a—” he looked up and down Elizabeth’s figure, appreciating the way the tank top had ridden up and showed her toned belly “— **thorough**  session in bed.”_

_Elizabeth blushed, not quite ready to be done being angry, but feeling a familiar warmth curling just below her stomach, stretched muscles twitching as Lucifer ran his fingers over her abs and buried his face in her neck, knowing damn well what that did to her._

_“Tha-That doesn’t—oh—that doesn’t mean they get to light you on—” Elizabeth was cut off with a moan as Lucifer lightly nipped at her collar bone, letting her head fall back onto his shoulder while his hands continued to roam her body._

_“It’ll sort itself out Love.” Lucifer assured._

_With that, the two returned to their session in each other’s arms, lost in the clashing of lips while Elizabeth dug her fingers into Lucifer’s hair, pulling it roughly as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Meanwhile, Lucifer put his hands directly on her ass, squeezing them tightly, his nails digging into her flesh in **just the right way—**_

_“Ahem.”_

_The two of them jumped apart, seeing an unamused Castiel staring at them, arms crossed and face firm._

* * *

Elizabeth sighed as she floated in front of The Cage. She had been at the ocean for an hour, just letting her frustration out on the water, unable to figure out where to go or what to do. Now, she was bone weary and emotionally exhausted and all she wanted was for Luce to hold her close to him like he did that day.

Laying herself down against a “wall” of the cage, Elizabeth reached out with her Grace, sobbing as she was met with nothing. Her Luce, her funny, cocky, self-assured Luce, was out of her reach in every way that mattered. And soon, her father might be as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in completely unrelated news, the sibling of my boyfriend who caused a bunch of trouble last November finally moved back. She's not acting like anything happened and I'm not gonna bother. I knew for a fact she's gonna talk when I'm not around, but, oh well. I'll blast her anonymously on my fanfiction site. 
> 
> Also, my boyfriend was going to ask to marry me months ago, but my mom asked him to wait for my last birthday, so any day between now and New Years, you'll be hearing about it!

**Author's Note:**

> What'd you think?


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